UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022245349 

of   tl)f 

(EInitier0itp  of  iQortf)  Carolina 


The  Sylvester  Hassell  Collection 

FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 

Sylvester  Hassell,  D.  D. 

CLASS     OF       62 

GIVEN    BY    HIS   CHILDREN 


UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 

School   of    Library 
Science 


jg^<z-»-/    CfC^t-  »-«-  **-  "*•-» 


^4,     JL^d^r' 


^L^-^^-    f^"" 

X  <#  M*/*^ 

1FSA- 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/holidaystorieswiOOnewy 


SCENE  IN  A  SCHOOL  ROOM. 


See  p.  7. 


HOLIDAY    S  1 0 IH  E  S 


MANY    PICT  I  RES 


NEW     YORK: 

PUBLISHED   BY    SAMUEL   RAYNOB 

No.  7  6   BOWERY. 

MDCCCL. 


'^  i 


CONTENTS. 


Scene  in  a  School-Room,    - 

Page 

7 

The  Three  Wishes, 

26 

The  Young  Driver, 

34 

A  Fable, 

42 

First  Discovert  of  Columbus, 

47 

Good  Company, 

50 

The  Bat  and  the  Weasel, 

56 

The  Rhyming  Pastry-Cook, 

57 

Russian  Names, 

78 

The  Boy  and  the  Eagle,   - 

82 

Emma, 

86 

The  Kite, 

89 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem,  - 

90 

The  Parts  of  Speech, 

93 

The  Nightingale, 

97 

The  Battle  of  Concord,    - 

103 

Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.     - 

106 

SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL- 
ROOM. 

[The  idea  of  this  trial  is  taken  from  an  old  English  book, 
called  "  Juvenile  Trials,"  where  the  offences  committed 
by  the  scholars  at  an  academy,  are  represented  as  hav- 
ing been  investigated  and  punished  in  a  similar  man- 
ner. There  is  an  article  of  the  same  character  in  the 
Evenings  at  Home.] 

While  the  pupils  of  a  celebrated  school  in 
one  of  the  interior  towns  in  New  England 
were  busily  engaged  in  the  studies  of  the 
morning,  a  loud  and  rather  impatient  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door. 

The  lad,  whose  seat  was  placed  nearest  the 
entrance,  rose,  and  opened  the  door;  and  im- 
mediately an  elderly  gentleman  entered.  With 
an  excited  manner,  and  hardly  noticing  any 
one  in  the  room,  he  made  his  way,  quite  as 
fast  as  was  strictly  proper,  toward  the  upper  end 
of  the  hall  where  Dr.  Aiken,  the  gentleman 
who  presided  over  the  school,  was  seated. 

Dr.  Aiken  arose  at  the  approach  of  the  gen- 
tleman, reached  him  a  chair,  and  begged  he 


8  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

would  be  seated  ;  but  the  stranger  declined  the 
offer,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  declare  the 
object  of  his  visit,  in  the  following  manner  :  — 

"  I  thank  you,  Dr.  Aiken,  for  your  politeness, 
and  I  really  wish  that  the  boys  over  whom  you 
preside  behaved  as  boys  having  the  advantage 
of  such  an  example  might  be  expected  to  do  ; 
but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  these  lads " 

A  profound  silence  prevailed  all  over  the 
room,  the  boys  most  anxiously  awaiting  the 
charge  that  was  about  to  be  brought  against 
them. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Danforth,"  mildly  said  Dr 
Aiken,  "  of  what  do  you  complain  ?  What 
have  these  boys  been  doing?" 

"  They  have  been  committing  a  great  offence ; 
they  have  been  trespassing  upon  private  prop- 
erty, sir ;  and  if  there  is  law  or  justice  in  the 
land,  they  must  and  shall  be  punished  for  it. 

"  You  may  not  be  aware,"  continued  Mr.  Dan- 
forth, "  that  the  windows  of  your  school-room, 
or  academy,  as  I  believe  it  is  the  fashion  to  call 
it,  look  directly  out  upon  a  small  field  at  the 
back  of  my  house.  Now,  in  this  field,  Dr. 
Aiken,  are  at  present  enclosed  a  few  sheep: 
they  are  my  property,  sir :  why  they  are  there, 
or  what  I  intend   to  do  with  them,  I  do  not 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  \J 

feel  obliged  to  say.  But  this  morning,  sir, 
early,  these  poor  animals  were  annoyed  by  a 
most  unmerciful  shower  of  missiles,  consisting  of 
stones,  coal,  and  other  hard  substances,  which 
endangered  their  lives,  and  alarmed  my  family  ; 
and  it  is  of  this  I  have  come  to  complain,  and 
for  this,  I  hope  the  offenders  will  be  brought 
to  condign  punishment ;  and  if  the  individuals 
who  were  guilty  of  the  offence  should  not  be 
discovered,  I  hope  the  whole  school  will  be 
subjected  to  punishment,  that  the  person  guilty 
of  this  enormity  may  by  no  means  escape." 

"Before  proceeding  to  such  lengths,"  said  Dr. 
Aiken,  "I  should  prefer  taking  milder  measures. 
We  have  lately  instituted  in  our  school  a  high 
court  of  justice  for  the  trial  of  all  offenders  ; 
and  this  seems  to  be  a  very  proper  occasion 
for  ordering  a  session.  I  therefore  appoint, 
Wednesday  afternoon  following,  a  court  to  be 
holden  in  this  place  for  the  investigation  of 
this  affair ;  and  if  you,  sir,  will  appear  with  your 
witnesses  and  counsel,  I  hope  you  will  have 
no  reason  to  complain  of  the  result." 

Mr.  Danforth,  who  was  really  a  mild  and 
excellent  man,  and  had  begun  to  get  rid  of  the 
momentary  anger  with  which  he  entered  the 
room,  expressed  his  willingness  to  submit  to 


10  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

this  method  of  obtaining  redress  ;  and  bidding 
Dr.  Aiken  a  polite  good  morning,  and  returning 
with  a  gracious  nod  of  the  head  the  united 
reverence  of  the  boys,  who,  after  the  respectful 
manner  of  the  olden  time,  rose  in  their  seats 
as  the  stranger  left  the  room,  he  withdrew. 

On  the  Wednesday  afternoon  following,  the 
school-room  was  open,  and  the  furniture  ar- 
ranged as  nearly  as  possible  to  resemble  that 
of  a  court-room.  A  seat,  a  little  elevated,  was 
placed  for  the  three  judges,  who  had  been  se- 
lected and  balloted  for  by  the  boys,  and  ap- 
proved by  the  master.  A  box  was  prepared 
for  the  witnesses,  and  seats  for  the  counsel,  and 
arrangements  were  made  to  accommodate  the 
numerous  spectators,  who,  from  the  novelty 
of  the  scene,  this  being  the  first  trial  of  the 
kind  which  had  taken  place  in  the  village,  felt 
desirous  to  be  present.  All  the  seats  were 
filled  at  an  early  hour. 

At  precisely  three  o'clock,  the  judges, 
Charles  Mason,  Theodore  Carrol,  and  John 
Marshal,  entered,  and  walked  in  a  grave  and 
proper  manner  up  the  hall,  and  took  possession 
of  the  chairs  prepared  for  them  as  judges  ;  and 
William  Stentor,  having  previously  been  chosen 
crier,  opened  the  court  in  the  regular  manner. 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  11 

A  lad  of  the  first  class,  named  William 
Buchanan,  who  had  been,  with  great  unanimity, 
selected  for  attorney-general,  now  rose,  and 
addressed  the  assembly  as  follows  :  — 

"  I  have  no  doubt  this  whole  assembly  sym- 
pathizes deeply  with  me  in  the  extreme  regret 
I  feel,  as  a  member  of  this  long-established  and 
justly-celebrated  school,  that  an  occurrence  like 
the  one  which  now  calls  us  together  should 
have  taken  place  ;  that  we,  who  under  the 
care  of  our  respected  principal,  and  our  hon- 
ored assistant  teachers,  have  been  favored  with 
every  opportunity  for  improvement,  not  only 
in  the  languages,  the  mathematics,  and  all  other 
branches  of  a  classical  education,  but  also  have 
had  instilled  into  our  minds  the  most  correct 
notions  of  moral  rectitude;  that  boys  so  situa- 
ated  should  be  accused  of  the  nefarious  crime 
of  intruding  upon  the  quiet  of  a  neighbor's 
house,  and  not  only  this,  but  of  barbarously, 
wantonly,  and  most  atrociously  frightening, 
disturbing,  hurrying,  and  perhaps  even  wound- 
ing, a  flock  of  that  most  gentle  and  inoffensive 
race  of  animals  —  the  sheep.  It  cannot  be  true 
that  such  a  crime  has  been  wantonly  commit- 
ted by  any  member  of  this  favored  community. 
There  must  be  some  mistake.     Some  error  has 


12  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

thrown  upon  this  school  the  blame  of  an  ac- 
tion, the  very  imagination  of  which  fills  one's 
mind  with  horror.  The  blame  now  rests  where 
I  feel  confident  it  ought  not  to  remain.  The  af- 
fair is  a  subject  of  deep  interest,  not  only  to  our 
worthy  neighbor  the  complainant,  but  to  our- 
selves. Let  us,  then,  with  all  diligence,  give 
our  attention  to  the  investigation  of  the  affair ; 
let  witnesses  be  called  and  examined  on  each 
side  ;  and  it  is  my  earnest  hope  and  belief  that 
every  shadow  of  blame  may,  in  the  course  of 
this  investigation,  be  removed  from  each 
member  of  our  beloved  community.  On  ac- 
count of  our  youth  and  the  great  solemnity 
of  an  oath,  I  shall  so  far  depart  from  the  usages 
of  courts  of  justice  as  not  to  cause  the  wit- 
nesses to  be  sworn ;  but  I  charge  you,  gentle- 
men, by  the  high  principles  of  honor  which 
have  ever  been  known  to  prevail  in  this 
school,  each  one  of  you  who  may  be  called  to 
testify,  that  in  your  evidence  you  give  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
With  the  leave  of  the  honorable  court,  I  will 
now  call  on  the  complainant,  Jedediah  Dan- 
forth,  to  state  his  case,  either  by  himself  or  his 
counsel." 

The  attorney  now  sat  down,  and  Mr.  Dan- 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  13 

forth  rose  and   addressed   the    court   as   fol- 
lows :  — 

"  On  the  morning  of  March  6,  of  the  present 
year,  18 — ,  my  family,  for  some  reasons  which 
it  is  unnecessary  to  detail,  had  risen  rather 
later  than  usual.  We  had  not  entirely  finished 
breakfast  at  a  quarter  before  nine.  All  at 
once  we  were  startled  by  an  unusual  noise  in 
the  field  immediately  adjoining  the  house.  At 
first  it  seemed  like  a  shower  of  stones ;  then 
followed  a  most  sonorous  cry  from  all  the 
sheep,  expressive  of  deep  distress. 

"The  family  all  rushed  at  once  to  the  win- 
dow ;  and  the  haste  in  doing  this  was  so  great, 
that  the  breakfast  table  was  overturned ;  the 
china  broken ;  the  coffee  and  water  urns  emp- 
tied upon  the  carpet,  to  its  manifest  detri- 
ment; the  rolls,  butter,  sausages,  and  other 
appendages  of  the  breakfast  table,  mingled  to- 
gether on  the  floor ;  and  a  favorite  dog,  who 
was .  often  engaged  in  guarding  the  sheep, 
but  at  this  moment  happened  to  be  reposing 
under  the  table,  was  seriously  alarmed,  and 
even  injured,  and  sSnt  forth  a  most  piteous  yell, 
which  added  to  the  distress  and  confusion  of 
the  occasion." 

The  complainant  proceeded: — "We  went 
2 


14 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM 


toward  the  window,  and  saw  the  sheep  huddled 
together  in  a  corner  of  "the  field ;  and  on  the 
ground  were  several  pieces  of  coal  of  the 
anthracite  kind,  some  pieces  of  stick,  and  a 
large  strip  of  bark.  As  no  windows  open  on 
this  field  but  those  of  the  school,  we  of  course 
turned  our  eyes  toward  that  building,  and  saw 
at  the  window  three  or  four  lads  ;  bul  they  im- 
mediately disappeared,  and  the  casement  was 
shut.  A  few  moments  after,  the  school-bell 
began  to  ring.  From  the  hour  of  the  day  when 
the  assault  took  place,  we  supposed  no  one 
could  be  in  the  room  but  the  boys  ;  from  the 
circumstance  that  the  missiles  found  in  the 
field  were  of  coal,  bark,  and  other  materials 
similar  to  what  is  made  use  of  for  fuel  in 
warming  this  school ;  from  the  fact  that  the 
window  was  seen  to  be  open,  and  the  boys 
were  noticed  skulking  away  ;  —  from  all  these 
circumstances,  I  felt  then,  and  still  feel  —  what 
I  have  no  doubt  this  examination,  if  fairly 
conducted,  will  make  plain  —  that  this  most  bar- 
barous, unprovoked,  and  savage  attack  on  these 
harmless  sheep  was  committed  by  some  of  the 
lads  who  attend  this  school." 

Mr.  Danforth  was  then  desired  by  the  court 
to  produce  his  witnesses.     He  was  prepared  ; 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  15 

and  Emeline  Gadsby,  his  cook,  and  Julietta 
Danforth,  his  niece,  with  two  or  three  other 
members  of  his  family,  gave  full  evidence  of 
the  fact  of  the  shower  of  missiles,  the  distress 
of  the  sheep,  the  alarm  of  the  family,  the  up- 
setting of  the  breakfast  table,  the  injury  done 
to  the  dog ;  of  the  window  of  the  school 
having  been  seen  open,  and  of  their  having 
seen  several  heads,  which  were  hastily  with- 
drawn, before  the  window  was  closed. 

The  evidence  on  the  part  of  the  complainant 
being  closed,  the  solicitor  called  the  witnesses 
on  the  part  of  the  school. 

Henry  Benedict  was  first  called  forward,  and 
after  having  been  cautioned  to  be  very  careful 
to  give  a  full  and  impartial  statement  of  all 
he  knew  of  the  matter,  he  spake  thus  :  — 

"  I  was  monitor  for  the  week,  at  the  time 
this  unfortunate  affair  took  place.  As  the 
weather  is  cold  at  this  season,  it  is  the  custom 
for  the  school  to  be  opened  half  an  hour  be- 
fore the  time  of  the  bell  ringing,  that  the  boys, 
as  they  arrive,  may  find  a  shelter  from  the 
weather ;  and  it  is  the  business  of  the  monitor 
to  be  present  and  keep  order.  On  the  morn- 
ing alluded  to,  I  came  punctually,  but,  on  en- 
tering  the    room,  found    the    fires   were    not 


16  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

kindled,  and  the  windows  were  still  open,  it 
being  the  custom  to  leave  the  upper  windows 
open  at  night,  that  the  room  may  be  thorough- 
ly ventilated.  The  night  previous  to  this 
affair  had  been  snowy,  and  I  perceived  that 
considerable  quantities  of  snow  had  collected 
on  the  seats  directly  before  the  window,  on 
the  side  of  the  room  nearest  to  Mr.  Danforth's 
field.  But  as  my  seat  was  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  and  as  I  had  not  quite  com- 
mitted my  lesson,  I  took  but  little  notice  of 
the  matter,  but  seated  myself  in  my  own  place, 
and  wrapping  myself  in  my  cloak,  to  protect 
myself  as  far  as  possible  from  the  cold,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  study  my  lesson,  now  and  then 
looking  round,  and  trying  to  keep  the  boys  as 
quiet  as  I  could.  At  this  time  I  saw  two 
or  three  boys  come  in :  one  of  them  was  the 
lad  to  whom  a  seat  belonged  which  had  the 
largest  pile  of  snow  in  the  room,  drifted  in  upon 
it.  I  heard  a  pretty  loud  talking  for  a  minute 
or  two,  saw  the  boy  who  had  been  making  the 
fire  go  up  toward  the  snowy  desk  :  in  a  mo- 
ment the  window  was  shut  down,  and  the 
school-bell  began  to  ring.  The  business  of 
the  school  soon  commenced,  and  I  thought  no 
more  of  the  occurrences  of  the  morning  until 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  17 

the  visit  of  the  complainant  caused  me  to 
endeavor  to  recollect  them  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible." 

Attorney.  —  "  Who  was  the  lad  whose  seat 
was  covered  with  the  largest  pile  of  snow,  and 
to  whom  you  just  alluded  ?  " 

"  Alfred  Wingate,  may  it  please  you.  This 
is  all  I  know  of  the  matter." 

Attorney. — "  Alfred  Wingate,  give  your 
evidence." 

Wingate.  —  "I  suppose  it  is  unnecessary 
to  repeat  what  Benedict  has  just  detailed  re- 
specting the  state  of  the  school-room  on  the 
memorable  morning.  It  is  sufficient  to  say, 
that  his  account,  according  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  is  correct  in  every  particular.  I 
hope  the  court  will  not  insist  on  my  repeating 
the  expressions  I  made  use  of  on  finding  my 
seat  so  covered  with  snow  :  they  were  uttered 
in  haste,  and  under  great  excitement,  and  not 
to  be  entirely  excused.  It  was  a  natural  im- 
pulse, as  the  court  will  allow,  for  me  to  en- 
deavor to  clear  my  seat  as  soon  as  possible.  I 
immediately  called  on  the  sweeper,  who  had 
just  made  the  fire,  to  assist  me.  In  his  haste 
to  comply  with  my  request,  he  brought  the 
coal-hod,  which  he  had  just  been  using,  in  his 


18  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

hand,  and  some  of  the  snow  being  scattered 
on  the  floor,  causing  it  to  be  slippery,  he  fell, 
and  emptied  the  coal,  which  remained  in  his 
hod,  into  the  midst  of  the  snow-bank.  This 
added  to  our  vexation.  But  as  soon  as  he  had 
recovered  his  footing,  we  procured  a  shovel, 
and  cleared  the  bench  as  fast  as  possible, 
throwing  the  snow  out  of  the  open  window. 
We  had  but  just  done  the  business,  and  closed 
the  window,  when  the  school-bell  rang.  This, 
gentlemen,  is  all  I  know  of  the  matter.  And  is 
the  act  of  removing  the  snow  from  my  seat 
one  which  I  could  have  avoided  ?  The  ad- 
mixture of  coal  and  bark  was  altogether  acci- 
dental ;  and,  far  from  having  committed  the  act 
with  any  intention  of  injuring  the  sheep  of  the 
complainant,  I  had  been  too  much  vexed  with 
my  own  personal  inconveniences  to  think  of 
him  or  his  sheep  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  the  matter." 

Attorney.  —  "  What  other  boys  were  with 
you  at  the  time?  " 

Wingate.  —  "I  do  not  recollect  any  but  a 
small  boy  — Charles  Hewins." 

Wingate  then  sat  down,  and  Hewins  was 
desired  to  tell  what  he  knew  of  the  matter. 

Charles     Hewins.  —  "The    morning    the 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  19 

difficulty  happened,  I  had  come  to  school 
quite  early;  and  it  was  partly  because  I  had 
a  nice  new  mahogany  ruler,  which  my  father 
had  given  me,  and  which  I  wanted  to  show  to 
some  of  the  boys.  As  Wingate  has  always 
been  very  kind  to  me,  I  ran  up  to  his  seat 
first  with  it ;  but  I  found  him  in  a  great  pet 
at  having  his  seat  covered  with  snow  ;  and  just 
as  I  was  holding  out  my  ruler,  the  sweeper, 
who  had  just  come  toward  us  with  the  coal- 
hod  in  his  hand,  slipped  down,  and  striking 
against  my  ruler,  knocked  it  out  of  my  hand. 
I  began  to  cry  and  try  to  find  it  in  the  snow; 
but  Wingate  was  in  such  a  hurrv  to  clear  his 
seat,  and  the  sweeper  in  such  -i  fright,  and 
suffering  such  pain  from  his  fall,  that  neither 
of  them  paid  any  attention  to  me.  I  ran  to 
the  fireplace,  and  got  a  piece  of  bark,  to  poke 
about  in  the  snow  for  my  ruler  ;  but  I  could 
not  find  it,  and  in  the  hurry  they  knocked  the 
bark  out  of  my  hand,  and  began  to  shovel 
the  snow  and  coals  out  of  the  window ;  and 
I  have  never  seen  my  dear,  nice  ruler  since. ' 
I  am  sure,  if  Mr.  Danforth's  sheep  were  hurt 
by  it,  it  was  no  fault  of  mine,  for  I  wish  I  had 
it  now."  Here  the  poor  little  boy's  sobs  in- 
terrupted him,  and  he  was  forced  to  sit  down. 


20  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

The  sweeper,  James  Grimes,  was  now  called. 
He  testified  that  at  a  rather  later  hour  than  usual, 
he  went  to  make  up  the  fire  in  the  school. 
He  had  been  but  recently  employed  in  this 
way,  and  he  was  fearful  that  he  should  not  be 
able  to  give  satisfaction.  In  consequence  of 
the  heavy  snow  which  had  fallen  the  night 
before,  and  which  was  still  falling  in  the 
morning,  he  had  not  completed,  so  early  as 
usual,  his  preparations  for  making  the  school 
fire.  This  accounted  for  his  being  rather 
late.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  kindling  the 
fire,  not  having  been  much  accustomed  to 
the  use  of  the  coal  called  anthracite.  [Here 
the  witness  was  proceeding  to  detail  the 
method  he  had  employed ;  but  the  court 
checked  him,  and  desired  him  to  confine  him- 
self as  much  as  possible  to  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  case  under  consideration.] 
The  witness  begged  pardon  of  the  court,  and 
proceeded  :  —  "I  had  just  finished  making  the 
fire,  and  the  hod  was  still  in  my  hand,  when 
I  was  called  on  by  a  young  gentleman,  the 
one  I  see  yonder,  (pointing  to  Wingate,)  to 
come  and  assist  him  in  clearing  the  snow  from 
his  bench.  This  I  hastened  to  do ;  but,  on 
reaching  the  spot,  I   tumbled  down,  my  foot 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  21 

having  slipped  upon  the  floor :  at  the  same 
time,  the  coal-hod  fell  from  my  hand,  and 
some  pieces  of  the  coal,  which  had  remained 
in  it,  mingled  with  the  snow,  which,  as  soon 
as  I  recovered  my  standing,  I  assisted  the 
young  gentleman  to  throw  out  of  the  window. 
There  was  a  little  hoy  near  us  who  was  crying, 
and  said  he  had  lost  his  new  ruler  among  the 
snow.  But  we  did  not  see  it ;  and,  in  fact, 
before  we  got  the  snow  thrown  out  of  the 
window,  the  school-bell  began  to  ring,  and  I 
retired." 

Here  the  complainant  was  asked  whether 
he  had  picked  up  any  of  the  articles  thrown 
at  the  sheep. 

The  complainant  produced  a  mahogany 
ruler,  which  he  said  he  found  among  pieces 
of  coal,  bark,  and  snow-balls,  in  his  field,  on  the 
morning  of  the  attack.  The  ruler  was  shown 
to  Charles  He  wins,  and  he  was  asked  whether 
he  had  ever  seen  it  before. 

He  wins.  — "  Indeed,  it  is  my  own  capital  new 
ruler,  which  I  never  expected  to  see  again; 
and  if  your  honor  will  examine  closely  one 
end  of  the  ruler,  you  will  see  a  little  sliding 
piece  of  wood,  which  will  draw  out,  and  un- 
derneath which  is  my  name,  neatly  printed  " 


22  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

Here  the  examination  was  made,  and  the 
sliding  piece  of  wood  having  been  removed,  the 
words  "  Charles  Hewins  "  were  plainly  seen. 

The  witnesses  on  both  sides  having  now 
been  examined,  the  senior  judge,  Charles 
Mason,  rose  and  addressed  the  assembly  as 
follows :  — 

"  Having  patiently  listened  to  all  the  evi- 
dence which  has  been  brought  forward  on 
each  side  of  this  intricate  case,  I  think  we 
may  venture  to  refer  it  to  the  jury.  If  they 
shall  find  that  the  attack  on  the  sheep,  though 
painful  to  the  animals,  and  distressing  to  their 
protectors,  had  been  the  result  of  accident, 
and  h,ad  not  happened  through  any  malicious 
intention  or  wicked  device  on  the  part  of  any 
one;  and  if  they  find  that  this  attack  must 
have  proceeded,  without  doubt,  from  Master 
Wingate  and  the  sweeper  ;  yet  still,  on  exam- 
ination, the  jury  should  be  convinced  that 
they  had  acted  as  discreetly  as,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, they  could  have  been  expected  to 
do ;  since,  considering  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  which  made  it  impossible  to  take  the 
snow  down  stairs  in  a  basket,  or  other  convey- 
ance, it  was  most  natural  they  should  find 
relief  in  throwing  it  out  of  the  window,  par- 


SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM.  23 

ticularly  as  the  sash  was  thrown  up ;  —  if,  taking 
all   things  into  consideration,   they   shall  feel 
obliged  to  give  a  verdict  against  the  defend 
ants,  yet  I  hope   they  will  make  the  damages 
as  light  as  possible." 

The  jury  retired  for  a  few  moments,  and, 
on  coming  in,  the  foreman  said  that  they 
found  the  defendants,  Alfred  Wingate  and 
James  Grimes,  guilty  of  a  trespass  on  the  sheep 
of  Jedediah  Danforth ;  but  as  the  offence  was 
altogether  unintentional,  they  recommended 
them  to  the  mercy  of  the  court. 

The  judge,  after  some  conversation  with 
the  other  members  of  the  bench,  ordered  that 
the  defendants  make  a  visit  to  Mr.  Danforth, 
and  apologize  to  him  in  the  most  polite  man- 
ner for  their  attack  on  his  sheep,  and  assure 
him  that,  so  far  as  they  were  concerned,  he 
might  feel  assured  his  sheep  should  in  future 
be  as  secure  as  when  disporting  themselves 
in  the  sunny  glades  of  Spain,  if  they  were 
Merinos,  or  when  roaming  over  the  happy 
hills  of  New  England,  if  they  were  native 
sheep. 

Mr.  Danforth  expressed  himself  perfectly 
satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  the  affair 
had  been  investigated,  and  its  result.     He  felt 


24  SCENE    IN    A    SCHOOL-ROOM. 

perfectly  sure  that  the  attack  was  purely  ac- 
cidental, and,  to  prevent  all  further  trouble  or 
delay,  he  would  shake  hands  with  the  defend- 
ants on  the  spot,  and  exonerate  them  from  all 
future  blame.  He  also  should  be  happy  to 
return  to  little  Hewins  his  ruler,  and  wished 
him  much  pleasure  from  its  use.  He  thanked 
the  court  for  the  great  attention  they  had 
paid  to  his  complaints,  and  declared  it  to  be 
his  firm  determination  to  send  his  children, 
grandchildren,  and  all  over  whom  he  had  any 
influence,  to  a  school  where  such  exact  justice 
was  administered,  and  where  such  a  high  moral 
sense  prevailed. 

The  chief  justice  then  made  a  short  ad- 
dress to  the  assembly,  thanking  the  masters 
for  their  kind  countenance,  and  the  boys  for 
the  propriety  of  their  conduct,  and  added  the 
expression  of  his  own  personal  satisfaction 
that  the  investigation  of  the  affair  had  termi- 
nated without  any  injury  having  been  done  to 
the  character  of  the  school. 

So  the  court  adjourned. 


26 


THE    THREE    WISHES. 


A    FAIRY    TALE. 


In  old  times,  when  people  sometimes  had 
visits  from  angels,  when  they  thought  they 
were  only  receiving  strangers,  it  happened  that 
one  of  these  good  beings  found  himself  out 
rather  late  ;  and  it  grew  dark  before  he  could 
reach  a  tavern.  As  he  travelled  along,  he  came 
to  a  place  where  there  were  two  houses,  di- 
rectly opposite  «to  each  other.  One  was  large 
and  beautiful ;  the  other  was  small,  and  looked 
poor:  one  belonged  to  a  rich,  and  the  othei 
to  a  poor  man.  The  traveller  said,  "  I  shall 
be  no  burden  to  the  rich  man  ;  I  will  knock 
at  his  door."  The  rich  man,  when  he  heard 
a  knocking  at  the  door,  opened  the  window, 
and  asked  the  stranger  what  he  wanted.  The 
traveller  answered,  "  A  night's  lodging."  The 
rich  man  looked  sharply  at  the  traveller,  and, 
because  he  saw  he  had  poor  clothes  on,  and 


THE    THREE    WISHES.  27 

did  not  appear  as  if  he  had  much  money  in 
his  pocket,  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  I  can- 
not take  you  in ;  my  chambers  are  all  strewed 
with  herbs  and  seeds,  and  if  I  took  in  every 
one  who  knocked  at  my  door,  I  should  soon 
have  to  take  a  staff,  and  set  out  begging  for 
myself.  You  must  look  somewhere  else  for  a 
lodging."  He  slammed  down  his  window, 
and  left  the  poor  traveller  standing  without. 
The  traveller  turned  round  toward  the  little 
house  and  knocked.  This  he  had  no  sooner 
done  than  the  poor  man  opened  his  little  door, 
and  begged  the  wanderer  to  come  in  and  spend 
the  night.  "  It  is  very  dark,"  said  he,  "  and 
you  cannot  go  any  farther  to-night."  The 
traveller  was  pleased,  and  went  into  the  house. 
The  wife  of  the  poor  man  reached  out  her 
hand,  bade  him  welcome,  and  begged  him  to 
make  himself  at  home.  She  had  not  much  to 
give,  but  what  she  had  she  gave  with  her  whole 
heart.  Then  she  put  some  potatoes  in  the 
fire,  and  while  they  were  roasting,  she  milked 
her  goat,  that  he  might  have  a  cup  of  milk 
with  his  potatoes ;  and  when  the  table  was 
prepared,  the  traveller  placed  himself  at  the 
table,  and  ate  and  praised  the  supper.  When 
he  had  eaten,  and  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed,  the 


28  THE    THREE    WISHES. 

wife  whispered  to  her  husband  that  they  would 
make  themselves  a  bed  of  straw  for  the  night, 
that  the  poor  tired  traveller  might  rest  upon 
their  bed,  for  they  had  but  one.  The  man 
said,  "  With  all  my  heart,"  and  he  begged  the 
stranger  to  lie  down  on  their  bed  and  rest 
himself.  The  traveller  did  not  wish  to  deprive 
the  poor  people  of  their  bed,  but  they  urged 
him  so  much,  that  at  last  he  consented,  and 
laid  himself  down,  while  the  good  couple  slept 
on  the  straw  on  the  floor.  The  next  morning 
they  got  up  before  day,  and  prepared  breakfast 
for  their  guest.  When  the  sun  shone  into  the 
window  and  the  traveller  had  got  up,  he  ate 
again  with  them,  and  wished  to  go  on  his 
journey.  But  as  he  was  standing  at  the  door, 
he  said  to  them,  "  You  have  been  so  kind  and 
good  to  me,  that  if  you  will  wish  three  times, 
your  wishes  shall  be  granted."  Then  the  poor 
man  said,  "  What  should  I  wish  for  but  eternal 
happiness,  and  that  we  two,  as  long  as  we 
live,  may  have  our  daily  bread.  For  the  third 
wish,  I  do  not  know  what  to  ask."  The  trav- 
eller said,  "  Would  you  not  like  a  new  house, 
in  exchange  for  your  old  one  ?  "  The  man 
said,  "  If  this  could  come  to  pass,  I  should  like 
it ;"  and  immediately  this  wish  was  fulfilled ; 


THE    THREE    WISHES.  29 

the  old  house  was  changed  to  a  new  one,  and 
then  the  traveller  went  his  way. 

When  the  rich  man  looked  out  of  his  win- 
dow in  the  morning,  he  saw  a  new  house 
standing  opposite,  in  place  of  the  old  one. 
He  rubbed  his  eyes,  called  his  wife,  and  said, 
"  Wife,  look  here ;  see  what  has  happened  ; 
yesterday  evening  there  stood  opposite  a  miser- 
able hut,  and  now  here  is  a  fine  new  house  ; 
run  over  and  find  out  how  it  has  happened." 
The  wife  went  to  see  her  poor  neighbor,  and 
asked  her  what  it  meant.  The  poor  woman 
told  her,  that  they  gave  a  poor  traveller  a 
night's  lodging,  and  that  when  he  bade  them 
good  by,  he  granted  them  three  wishes  —  eter- 
nal blessedness,  their  daily  bread,  and  a  new 
house  for  the  old  one.  When  the  rich  man's 
wife  heard  this,  she  ran  back  and  told  her 
husband.  He  said,  "  I  could  tear  my  hair,  I 
am  so  vexed  with  myself :  if  I  had  only  known 
who  the  stranger  was,  I  would  have  taken  him 
in  ;  but  I  turned  him  away."  "  Make  haste," 
said  his  wife ;  "  get  upon  your  horse  ;  the  man 
has  not  gone  far ;  you  will  overtake  him,  and 
he  will  give  you  your  three  wishes." 

The  rich  man  rode  forward.  He  overtook 
the  traveller,  spoke  kindly  to  him,  and  told 
3* 


30  THE    THREE    WISHES. 

him,  he  hoped  he  would  not  be  angry  that  he 
did  not  take  him  in  the  last  night;  that  he 
went  to  look  for  his  door  key,  and  that  while 
he  was  gone  the  stranger  went  away ;  but  he 
hoped  when  the  traveller  returned  from  his 
journey,  he  would  stop  at  his  house.  "  Well," 
said  the  traveller,  "  if  I  return,  I  will  stop." 

Then  the  rich  man  asked  if  he  would  be  so 
kind  as  to  grant  him  his  three  first  wishes,  as 
he  had  done  his  neighbor.  "  Yes,"  said  the 
traveller,  "  I  can  grant  them  to  you  ;  but  they 
will  not  do  you  any  good,  and  you  had  better 
not  form  them,"  But  the  rich  man  thought 
he  should  certainly  wish  for  something  that 
would  be  very  delightful,  if  he  were  only  sure 
that  his  wish  would  be  granted.  "  Ride  home," 
said  the  traveller,  "  and  the  three  first  wishes 
which  you  make  shall  come  to  pass." 

Now  the  rich  man,  as  he  was  riding  along, 
began  to  think  what  he  should  wish  for ;  and 
while  he  was  thinking,  he  dropped  his  bridle, 
and  the  horse  began  to  spring,  so  that  all  his 
thoughts  were  jumbled  up,  and  he  did  not  know 
how  to  get  them  in  order.  He  grew  angry 
with  his  horse,  and  said  impatiently  to  the 
animal,  "  I  wish  your  neck  were  broken."  No 
sooner  was  the  word   spoken,    than,   plump! 


THE    THREE    WISHES. 


31 


down  he  fell  to  the  ground  ;  and  there  the 
horse  lay,  and  never  got  up  again ;  the  man's 
wish  was  fulfilled  ;  the  horse's  neck  was  broken. 
He  thought  he  would  not  leave  the  saddle 
there  ;  so  he  cut  it  off  the  horse's  back,  swung 
it  on  his  own,  and  went  towards  his  home  on 
foot.  He  was  comforted,  however,  with  the 
thought  that  there  were  still  two  wishes  re- 
maining. As  he  trudged  along  over  the  sand 
and  the  noon-day  sun  scorched  him,  he  grew 
hot  and  impatient,  and  could  not  fix  in  his 
mind  what  he  should  wish  for.  "  If  I  were  to 
wish  for  all  the  kingdoms  in  the  world  and  all 
their  treasures,  there  would  still  be  something 
that  I  should  want ;  I  will  wish  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  there  may  be  no  other  thing  I  could 
desire.  One  thing  would  be  too  little,  another 
too  much."  While  his  mind  was  so  disturbed, 
he  thought  of  his  wife.  "  There  she  sits," 
said  he,  "  in  her  cool  parlor,  dressed  in  her 
best,  while  I  am  tugging  along  this  heavy 
saddle."  This  made  him  feel  cross,  and  with- 
out thinking,  he  said,  "  I  wish  she  was  sitting 
on  this  saddle,  instead  of  its  breaking  my 
back  I  "  No  sooner  had  he  spoken,  than  the 
saddle  vanished  from  his  back,  and  he  recol- 
lected that  two  of  his  wishes  were  spent.    Now 


32  THE    THREE    WISHES. 

he  grew  very  impatient ;  he  began  to  run,  and 
he  resolved  he  would  sit  down  by  himself  at 
home  and  think  over  his  last  wish,  and  have  that 
so  good,  that  it  might  make  up  for  what  he  had 
lost  by  making  the  other  two  so  hastily.  But 
when  he  reached  his  door,  there  sat  his  wife  on 
the  middle  of  the  saddle  ;  she  could  not  rise  up 
from  it,  and  was  weeping  and  wailing.  Then 
said  the  husband,  "  Be  quiet,  wife  ;  I  will  wish 
you  all  the  kingdoms  in  the  wTorld,  only  sit 
still."  But  she  answered,  "  What  good  would 
all  the  kingdoms  in  the  world  do  me  if  I  must 
sit  always  upon  this  saddle  ?  You  have  wished 
me  upon  it ;  you  must  wish  me  off  again." 
Whether  he  would  or  not,  he  was  obliged  to 
make  the  third  wish,  that  she  should  be  freed 
from  the  saddle ;  and  this  was  quickly  fulfilled. 
So  he  had  gained  nothing  but  vexation,  trouble, 
and  a  dead  horse.  But  the  poor  couple  lived 
contented,  quietly,  and  piously,'  to  the  end  of 
their  lives. 


THE  YOUNG  DRIVER. 


34 


THE  JOUNG    DRIVER; 

OR,    THE    GIG    DEMOLISHED. 


Ye  heroes  of  the  upper  form, 
Who  long  for  whip  and  reins, 

Come,  listen  to  a  dismal  tale, 
Set  forth  in  dismal  strains  :  — 

Young  Jehu  was  a  lad  of  fame, 

As  all  the  school  can  tell ; 
At  cricket,  ball,  and  prison  bars, 

He  bore  away  the  bell. 

Now  welcome  Christmas  time  was  come, 
And  boys,  with  merry  hearts, 

Were  gone  to  visit  "  dear  mamma," 
And  eat  her  pies  and  tarts. 


As  soon  as  Jehu  saw  his  sire, 
"  A  boon,  a  boon,"  he  cried  ; 

"  O,  if  I  am  your  darling  boy, 
Let  me  not  be  denied." 


THE    YOUNG    DRIVER. 


35 


"  My  darling  boy,  indeed,  thou  art," 

The  father  wise  replied  ; 
"  S.o  name  the  boon ;    I  promise  thee 

It  shall  not  be  denied." 

"  Then  give  me,  sir,  your  long-lashed  whip, 

And  give  your  gig  and  pair, 
To  drive  along  to  yonder  town, 

And  nourish  through  the  fair." 

The  father  shook  his  head.    "  My  son, 

You  know  not  what  you  ask ; 
To  drive  a  gig  in  crowded  streets 

Is  no  such  easy  task. 

"  The  horses,  full  of  rest  and  corn, 

'Scarce  I  myself  can  guide  ; 
And  much,  I  fear,  if  you  attempt, 

Some  mischief  will  betide. 

"  Then  think,  dear  boy,  of  something  else 
That 's  better  worth  your  wishing  ; 

A  bow  and  quiver,  bat  and  balls, 
A  rod  and  lines  for  fishing." 

But  nothing  could  young  Jehu  please, 

Except  a  touch  at  driving ; 
'Twas  all  in  vain,  his  father  found, 

To  spend  his  breath  in  striving. 


36 


THE    YOUNG    DRIVER. 


"  At  least,  attend,  rash  boy,"  he  cried, 

"  And  follow  good  advice, 
Or  in  a  ditch  both  gig  and  you 

Will  tumble  in  a  trice. 

"  Spare,  spare  the  whip,  hold  fast  the  reins 

The  steeds  go  fast  enough  ; 
Keep  in  the  middle,  beaten  track, 

Nor  cross  the  ruts  so  rough. 

"  And  when  within  the  town  you  come, 

Be  sure,  with  special  care, 
Drive  clear  of  sign-posts,  booths,  and  stalls, 

And  monsters  of  the  fair." 

The  youth  scarce  heard  his  father  out, 
But  roared,  "  Bring  out  the  whisky." 

With  joy  he  viewed  the  rolling  wheels, 
And  prancing  ponies,  frisky. 

He  seized  the  reins,  and  up  he  sprung, 
And  waved  the  whistling  lash  ; 

"  Take  care  !  take  care !  "  his  father  cried 
But  off  he  went,  slap  dash. 

"  Who 's  this  light  spark  ? "  the  horses  thought 
"  We  '11  try  your  strength,  young  master ; 

So  o'er  the  rugged  turnpike  road 
Still  faster  ran,  and  faster. 


THE    YOUNG    DRIVER-  37 

Young  Jehu,  tottering  in  his  seat, 

Now  wished  to  pull  them  in ; 
But  pulling,  from  so  young  a  hand, 

They  valued  not  a  pin. 

A  drove  of  grunting  pigs  before 

Filled  up  the  narrow  way ; 
Dash  through  the  midst  the  horses  drove, 

And  made  a  rueful  day ;  — 

For  some  were  trampled  under  foot, 
Some  crushed  beneath  the  wheel ; 

Lord,  how  the  drivers  cursed  and  swore, 
And  how  the  pigs  did  squeal ! 

A  farmer's  wife,  on  old  blind  Ball, 

Went  slowly  on  the  road, 
With  butter,  eggs,  and  cheese,  and  cream, 

In  two  large  panniers  stowed. 

Ere  Ball  could  stride  the  rut,  amain 
The  gig  came  thundering  on  - — 

Crash  went  the  pannier,  and  the  dame 
And  Ball  lay  overthrown. 

Now  through  the  town  the  mettled  pair 

Ran  rattling  o'er  the  stones ; 
They  drove  the  crowd  from  side  to  side. 

And  shook  poor  Jehu's  bones. 


38  THE    YOUNG    DRIVER. 

When,  lo !  directly  in  their  course, 
A  monstrous  form  appeared ; 

A  shaggy  bear,  that  stalked  and  growled, 
On  hinder  legs  upreared. 

Sideways  they  started  at  the  sight, 
And  whisked  the  gig  half  round  ; 

Then  cross  the  crowded  market-place 
They  flew  with  furious  bound. 

First,  o'er  a  heap  of  crockery  ware 

The  rapid  car  they  whirled  ; 
And  jugs,  and  mugs,  and  pots,  and  pans, 

In  fragments  wide  were  hurled. 

A  booth  stood  near,  with  tempting  cakes 
And  grocery  richly  fraught ;  • 

All  Birmingham,  on  t'other  side, 
The  dazzled  optics  caught. 

With  active  spring  the  nimble  steeds 
Rushed  through  the  pass  between, 

And  scarcely  touched  ;  the  car  behind 
Got  through  not  quite  so  clean. 

For  while  one  wheel  one  stall  engaged, 

Its  fellow  took  the  other ; 
Dire  was  the  clash  ;  down  fell  the  booths, 

And  made  a  dreadful  pother 


THE    YOUNG    DRIVER.  39 

Nuts,  oranges,  and  gingerbread, 

And  figs,  here  rolled  around ; 
And  scissors,  knives,  and  thimbles  there 

Bestrewed  the  glittering  ground. 

The  fall  of  boards,  the  shouts  and  cries, 

Urged  on  the  horses  faster, 
And  as  they  flew,  at  every  step 

They  caused  some  new  disaster. — 

Here  lay  o'erturned,  in  woful  plight, 

A  pedler  and  his  pack ; 
There,  in  a  showman's  broken  box, 

All  London  went  to  wrack. 

But  now,  the  fates  decreed  to  stop 

The  ruin  of  the  day, 
And  make  the  gig,  and  driver  too, 

A  heavy  reckoning  pay. 

A  ditch  there  lay,  both  broad  and  deep, 
Whose  streams,  as  black  as  Styx, 

From  every  quarter  of  the  town, 
Their  muddy  currents  mix. 

Down  to  its  brink,  in  heedless  haste, 

The  frantic  horses  flew, 
And  in  the  midst,  with  sudden  jerk, 

Their  burden  overthrew. 


40  THE    YOUNG   DRIVER. 

The  prostrate  gig,  with  desperate  force, 

They  soon  pulled  out  again, 
And  at  their  heels,  in  ruin  dire, 

Dragged  lumbering  o'er  the  plain. 

Here  lay  a  wheel,  an  axle  there, 

The  body  there  remained  ; 
Till,  severed  limb  from  limb,  the  car 

Nor  name  nor  shape  retained. 

But  Jehu  must  not  be  forgot  — 

Left  floundering  in  the  flood,  [eyes 

With  clothes  all  drenched,  and  mouth  and 

Beplastered  o'er  with  mud. 

In  piteous  case  he  waded  through, 

And  gained  the  slippery  side, 
Where  grinning  crowds  were  gathered  round 

To  mock  his  fallen  pride. 

They  led  him  to  a  neighboring  pump, 

To  clear  his  dismal  face, 
Whence,  cold  and  heartless,  home  he  slunk, 

Involved  in  sore  disgrace. 

And  many  a  bill  for  damage  done, 

His  father  had  to  pay : 
Take  warning,  youthful  drivers  all, 

From  Jehu's  first  essay. 

Mrs.  Barbauld 


42 


A    FABLE 


"  What  a  wearisome  life  do  I  lead  here  !w 
said  a  little  fountain  to  itself  one  day,  as  it 
bubbled  up  in  the  middle  of  a  very  small  green 
spot  in  an  unfrequented  part  of  a  burning 
desert.  "  What  an  insignificant  little  fountain 
I  am  !  I  have  not  the  satisfaction  of  pouring 
out  a  large  stream  of  water  and  fertilizing 
a  great  extent  of  this  endless  desert.  If  I 
were,  then  I  should  see  whole  caravans  of 
men,  and  horses,  and  camels,  stop  around  me, 
and  quench  their  thirst,  and  repose  their  weary 
limbs  upon  the  fresh  green  grass  that  would 
spring  up  about  me.  To  be  sure,  it  is  green 
as  far  as  I  can  see,  for  I  am  such  a  very  little 
stream  that  my  vision  extends  but  a  very  little 
way ;  but  I  know  enough,  to  be  sure  that  it  is 
but  a  very  little  space  that  my  waters  can  make 
green  and  keep  moist." 

As  the  little  spring  was  bubbling  out  in  a 
low  tone  these  lamentations,  she  heard  a  bustle 


A   FABLE.  43 

and  a  noise  at  a  distance,  and  presently  the 
cry  of  "  Joy  !  Joy  !  "  was  heard.  As  the  sound 
came  nearer,  there  appeared  a  party  of  trav- 
ellers, consisting  of  an  elderly  gentleman  and 
lady,  a  little  boy,  and  two  servants,  who  were 
assisting  the  gentleman  to  support  a  young 
girl,  who  seemed  to  be  fainting  from  fatigue, 
or  some  other  cause.  The  little  boy  reached 
first  the  borders  of  the  spring,  and  rushing  up 
to  the  little  fountain,  quenched  his  thirst  at  the 
pure  source,  and  ran  back  to  meet  his  party, 
crying  out,  "  Cheer  up,  sister  ;  here  is  a  sweet 
fountain,  and  a  nice  little  bed  of  green  grass 
just  big  enough  for  you  to  lie  down  upon." 
The  party  now  came  up ;  and  having  placed 
the  young  lady  on  the  grass,  and  sprinkled  her 
face  and  moistened  her  lips  with  the  water, 
she  opened  her  eyes,  and  by  degrees  regained 
strength,  and  was  able  to  support  herself. 

By  this  time  the  remainder  of  the  party  came 
up,  which  consisted  of  horses,  servants,  and 
camels,  furnished  with  all  the  usual  appendages 
of  caravans  in  the  desert.  As  soon  as  they 
stopped,  and  had  quenched  the  thirst  of  the 
men  and  the  beasts,  they  spread  a  cloth,  and 
arranged  a  meal,  which  was  eaten  with  good 
relish  by  all  the  party,  and  by  none  with  a 


44  A    FABLE. 

better  than  the  young  lady,  who  had  now  en- 
tirely recovered  herself,  and  was  able  to  take 
her  part  in  the  gay  conversation. 

From  this  conversation,  which  was  gay  now 
that  the  dangers  were  all  over,  the  fountain 
learned  that  the  party,  in  crossing  the  desert, 
had  wandered  from  the  usual  path  which  led 
by  one  of  the  large  springs,  in  consequence  of 
their  having  heard  that  there  was  a  party  of 
Arabian  robbers  in  that  neighborhood.  Their 
trusty  guide,  who  knew  perfectly  all  the  parts 
of  the  desert,  was  acquainted  with  this  little 
fountain,  and  had  ventured  away  from  the 
beaten  track  that  they  might  elude  the  robbers. 
The  path  proved  longer  than  they  had  expect- 
ed, and  the  young  lady,  who  was  rather  deli- 
cate in  health,  had  become  almost  exhausted 
when  they  reached  the  welcome  spring  in  the 
manner  I  have  just  related. 

After  having  refreshed  and  rested  themselves, 
the  party  resumed  their  journey,  and  reached 
the  e.nd  of  it  in  safety.  They  never  ceased  to 
remember  with  gratitude  the  little  spring  sur- 
rounded with  its  border  of  grass ;  and  the 
young  lady,  who  drew  with  some  skill,  made 
a  little  sketch  of  the  fountain,,  which  she  fin- 
ished  carefully  when   she  reached    her  own 


A    FABLE.  45 

home  ;  and  it  formed  a  very  pretty  picture,  at 
which  the  family  often  looked  with  pleasure. 

After  they  were  gone,  the  little  fountain 
bubbled  away  much  more  gayly  than  before. 
She  said  to  herself,  "  How  glad  I  am  that  all 
the  water  in  the  desert  was  not  poured  out 
into  the  great  springs,  but  that  there  are  some 
little  fountains  scattered  around,  here  and 
there  !  And  what  a  happy  little  fountain  I  am, 
that  I  have  been  able  to  give  so  much  pleasure 
and  relief  to  these  good  people !  I  will  never 
vex  myself  at  my  insignificance  again,  but  keep 
bubbling  away  as  fast  as  I  can,  although  I  only 
fertilize  a  very  little  spot ;  since,  if  I  always 
take  care  to  sprinkle  my  water  about  so  judi- 
ciously as  to  keep  every  part  of  the  grass  with- 
in my  reach  moist  and  green,  and  always  have 
a  draught  ready  for  every  weary  traveller  that 
comes  afong,  I  shall  do  all  that  is  expected  of 
any  spring,  great  or  small." 


47 


THE    FIRST    DISCOVERY    OF 
COLUMBUS. 


"  The  howling  winds  forbid  us 

To  trust  the  fatal  main ; 
O,  turn  our  wandering  vessel 

To  harbor  once  again. 

"  Why  to  this  bold  Italian 
Our  lives,  our  hopes  confide  ? 

No  golden  land  awaits  us 
Beyond  the  shoreless  tide. 

"  How  long  shall  he  deceive  us 
With  boasting  vain  and  loud  ? 

And  when  we  gaze  for  land, 
He  can  show  us  but  a  cloud  !  " 

The  gallant  leader  heard, 
But  he  listened  undismayed, 

Though  he  saw  their  furious  glances, 
And  their  daggers,  half  displayed. 


48        THE    FIRST    DISCOVERY    OF    COLUMBUS. 

No  fear  was  in  his  soul, 

But  his  heart  was  wrung  with  woe 
Shall  he  yield  before  their  murmurs, 

And  his  glorious  meed  forego  ? 

Had  he  braved  the  ocean's  terrors, 
In  tempest  and  in  night, 

And  shall  he  furl  his  sails 

With  the  promised  goal  in  sight  ? 

For  he  looked  toward  the  horizon, 
And  marked  the  setting  sun  ; 

,And  by  its  ruddy  light  he  knew, 
That  all  his  toils  were  done. 

'Twas  in  the  deepest  midnight, 
As  they  cut  the  yielding  wave, 

When  not  a  star  was  shining, 
To  guide  them  or  to  save  ;  — 

As  in  awful,  hopeless  silence, 
Their  onward  course  they  steer, 

Far  in  the  murky  distance, 
Lo  !  glimmering  lights  appear. 

In  breathless  joy  and  wonder, 
They  watch  the  opening  sky, 


THE    FIRST    DISCOVERY    OF    COLUMBUS.        49 

And  with  the  morning  rises 
Their  rapturous  certainty. 

Through  the  silvery  vapor  gleaming, 
Extends  the  welcome  strand ; 

And  trees,  and  rocks,  and  mountains, 
Before  their  view  expand. 

They  breast  the  foamy  surges, 

And,  shouting,  leap  ashore  ; 
While  every  echo  answers, 

"  God  and  Saint  Salvador  1 " 


50 


GOOD  COMPANY. 

"  Be  sure,  Frederic,  always  to  keep  good  company," 
was  the  final  admonition  of  Mr.  Lofty,  on  dismissing 
his  son  for  the  university. 

"  I  entreat  you,  Henry,  always  to  choose  good  com- 
pany" said  Mr.  Manly,  on  parting  with  his  son  to  an 
apprenticeship  in  a  neighboring  town. 

But  it  was  impossible  for  two  people  to  mean  more 
differently  by  the  same  words. 

In  Mr.  Lofty's  idea,  good  company  was  that  of  per- 
sons superior  to  ourselves  in  rank  and  fortune.  By 
this  alone  he  estimated  it ;  and  the  degrees  of  compa- 
rison, better  and  best,  were  made  exactly  to  corres- 
pond to  such  a  scale.  Thus,  if  an  esquire  was  good 
company,  a  baronet  was  better,  and  a  lord,  best  of  all, 
provided  that  he  was  not  a  poor  lord ;  for  in  that  case, 
a  rich  gentleman  might  be  at  least  as  good.  For  as, 
according  to  Mr.  Lofty's  maxim,  the  great  purpose  for 
which  companions  were  to  be  chosen,  was  to  advance 
a  young  man  in  the  world  by  their  credit  and  interest, 
those  were  to  be  preferred,  who  afforded  the  best  pros- 
pects in  this  respect. 

Mr.  Manly,  on  the  other  hand,  understood  by  good 
company,  that  which  was  improving  to  the  morals 
and  understanding ;  and  by  the  best,  that  which  to  a 
high  degree  of  these  qualities,  added  true  politeness 
of  manners.  As  superior  advantages  in  education,  to 
a  certain  point,  accompany  superiority  of  condition, 


GOOD    COMPANY. 


51 


he  wished  his  son  to  prefer  as  companions  those 
whose  situation  in  life  had  afforded  them  the  opportu- 
nity of  being  well  educated ;  but  he  was  far  from  de- 
siring him  to  shun  connections  with  worth  and  talents, 
wherever  he  should  find  them. 

Mr.  Lofty  had  an  utter  aversion  to  low  company,  by 
which  he  meant  inferiors,  people  of  no  fashion  and 
figure,  shabby  fellows,  whom  nobody  knows. 

Mr.  Manly  equally  disliked  low  company,  under- 
standing by  it  persons  of  mean  habits  and  vulgar  con- 
versation. 

A  great  part  of  Mr.  Manly's  good  company,  was 
Mr.  Lofty's  low  company ;  and  not  a  few  of  Mr. 
Lofty's  very  best  company,  were  Mr.  Manly's  very 
worst. 

Each  of  the  sons  understood  his  father's  meaning, 
and  followed  his  advice. 

Frederic,  from  the  time  of  his  entrance  at  the  uni- 
versity, commenced  what  is  called  a  tuft-hunter,  from 
the  tuft  in  the  cap  worn  by  young  noblemen.  He  took 
pains  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  good  graces  of  all 
the  young  men  of  high  fashion  in  his  college,  and  be- 
came a  constant  companion  in  their  schemes  of  frolic 
and  dissipation.  They  treated  him  with  an  insolent 
familiarity,  often  bordering  upon  contempt ;  but  fol- 
lowing another  maxim  of  his  father's,  "  one  must  stoop 
to  rise,"  he  took  it  all  in  good  part.  He  totally  neglect- 
ed study,  as  unnecessary,  and  indeed  inconsistent  with 
his  plan.  He  spent  a  great  deal  of  money,  with  which 
his  father,  finding  that  it  went  in  good  company  ^  at 
first  supplied  him  freely.  In  time,  however,  his  ex- 
penses amounted  to  so  much,  that.  Mr.  Lofty,  who 
kept  good  company  too,  found  it  difficult  to  answer  his 
demands.     A  considerable  sum  that  he  lost  at  play 


52 


GOOD    COMPANY. 


with  one  of  his  noble  friends,  increased  the  difficulty. 
If  it  were  not  paid,  the  disgrace  of  not  having  dis- 
charged a  debt  of  honor  would  lose  him  all  the  favor 
he  had  acquired;  yet  the  money  could  not  be  raised 
without  greatly  embarrassing  his  father's  affairs. 

In  the  midst  of  this  perplexity,  Mr.  Lofty  died,  leav- 
ing behind  him  a  large  family,  and  very  little  property. 
Frederic  came  up  to  town,  and  soon  dissipated  in  good 
company  the  scanty  portion  that  came  to  his  share. 
Having  neither  industry,  knowledge,  nor  reputation, 
he  was  then  obliged  to  become  an  humble  dependent 
on  the  great,  flattering  all  their  follies,  and  minister- 
ing to  their  vices,  treated  by  them  with  mortifying 
neglect,  and  equally  despised  and  detested  by  the  rest 
of  the  world. 

Henry,  in  the  mean  time,  entered  with  spirit  into 
the  business  of  his  new  profession,  and  employed  his 
leisure  in  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with  a  few 
select  friends.  These  were  partly  young  men  in  a 
situation  similar  to  his  own,  partly  persons  already 
settled  in  life,  but  all  distinguished  by  propriety  of 
conduct,  and  improved  understandings.  From  all 
of  them  he-  learned  somewhat  valuable ;  but  he  was 
more  particularly  indebted  to  two  of  them,  who  were 
in  a  station  of  life  inferior  to  that  of  the  rest.  One 
was  a  watchmaker,  an  excellent  mechanic,  and  tolera- 
ble mathematician,  and  well  acquainted  with  the  con- 
struction and  use  of  all  the  instruments  employed  in 
experimental  philosophy.  The  other  was  a  young 
druggist,  who  had  a  good  knowledge  of  chemistry, 
and'frequently  employed  himself  in  chemical  opera- 
tions and  experiments.  Both  of  them  were  men  of 
very  decent  manners,  and  took  a  pleasure  in  commu- 
nicating their  knowledge  to  such  as  showed  a  taste  for 


GOOD    COMPANY. 


53 


similar  studies.  Henry  frequently"  visited  them,  and 
derived  much  useful  information  from  their  instruc- 
tions, for  which  he  ever  expressed  great  thankfulness. 
These  various  occupations  and  good  examples  effec- 
tually preserved  him  from  the  errors  of  youth,  and  he 
passed  his  time  with  credit  and  satisfaction.  He  had 
the  same  misfortune  with  Frederic,  just  as  he  was 
ready  to  come  out  into  the  world,  of  losing  his  father, 
upon  whom  the  support  of  the  family  chiefly  depended ; 
but  in  the  character  he  had  established,  and  the  know- 
ledge he  had  acquired,  he  found  an  effectual  resource. 
One  of  his  young  friends  proposed  to  him  a  partner- 
ship in  a  manufacture  he  had  just  set  up  at  considera- 
ble expense,  requiring  for  his  share  only  the  exertion 
of  his  talents  and  industry.  Henry  accepted  the  offer, 
and  made  such  good  use  of  the  skill  in  mechanics  and 
chemistry  he  had  acquired,  that  he  introduced  many 
improvements  into  the  manufactory,  and  rendered  it  a 
very  profitable  concern.  He  lived  prosperous  and  in 
dependent,  and  retained  in  manhood  all  the  friendship? 
of  his  youth. 


54 


THE    BAT    AND    THE    WEASEL 


A  bat,  who,  by  daylight,  sees  none  of  the  best, 
By  chance  popped  her  head  in  a  sly  weasel's 

nest; 
The  weasel,  of  old,  a  sworn  foe  to  all  mice, 
Would  have  eaten  the  bat,  for  a  mouse,  in  a 

trice. 
"  How  dare  you,"  said  she,  "  stare  me  full  in 

the  face, 
When  so  long  you  have  sought  to  annoy  my 

whole  race? 
Are  you  not  a  vile  mouse  ?    Come,   the  truth 

quickly  tell ; 
Yes,  as  I  am  a  weasel,  I  know  it  full  well." 
The  bat,  quite  alarmed,  said,  "  Your  pardon, 

I  pray ; 
But  for  once,  Mrs.  Weasel,  you're  out  of  the 

way; 
Some  wicked  defamer  has  given  me  this  name ; 
The  world's  great  Creator  was  not,  sure,  to 

blame ; 


THE    BAT    AND    THE    WEASEL.  55 

For,  thanks  to  his  skill,  I  a  bird  up  can  fly  ; 
All  hail  to  the  race  who  can  soar  through  the 

sky ! " 
The  weasel  was  pleased  with  so  proper  a  reason, 
And  gave  poor  bat  leave  to  fly  off  for  that 

season. 
A  day  or  two  after,  the  bat,  without  heed, 
While  flying  about,  and  of  eyesight  in  need, 
Found  herself,  with  dismay,  in  another  dark 

nest, 
Which  belonged  to  a  weasel :  cried  this  beast, 

"  I  detest 
The  whole   race   of  birds ;  and  now  this  one 

comes  here 
To  give  me  a  mouthful ;    the   case  is  quite 

clear.'*' 
"  You  entirely  mistake  me,  dear  ma'am,"  cried 

the  bat ; 
"  I  pass  for  a  bird  !  Who  could  e'er  fancy  that  ? 
What  makes  a  fine  bird  but  fine  feathers,  be 

sure ; 
Now  I  am  a  mouse  ;  may  the  race  long  endure  ! 
And  woe  to  the  cats,  —  I  with  them  live  in 

strife."  — 
Thus  twice,  by  her  wit,  did  the  bat  save  her 

life. 


THE  PASTRY  COOK. 


57 


THE    RHFMING    PASTRY-COOK 


FROM  THE  FRENCH  JOURNAL  DES  ENFANS. 


About  one  hundred  and  eighty-five  or  six 
years  ago  lived  a  pastry-cook,  whose  name 
was  Crepo.  He  was  a  gentle,  useful  creature, 
honest,  but  singularly  fantastical  in  his  speech. 
This  Crepo,  though  a  very  indifferent  pastry- 
cook, never  spoke  except  in  rhyme  :  for  ex- 
ample, if  he  wished  to  pay  a  person  a  com- 
pliment, he  would  say, 

"  Sir,  I  salute  you  without  show, 
And  make  my  manners,  signed  Crepo." 

This  was  without  common  sense,  for  it  is 
not  customary  to  sign  a  compliment  made  by 
the  word  of  mouth ;  but  Crepo  did  not  look 
at  matters  so  closely  ;  of  what  consequence 
was  common  sense,  provided  there  was  plenty 
of  rhyme  ? 

But  this  Crepo,  who,  by  force  of  habit,  had 


58  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

succeeded  in  being  able  to  express  himself  as 
easily  in  wretched  verses  as  another  could  in 
prose,  had  for  a  neighbor  a  man  named  Peter 
Jaurat,  a  public  writer  by  trade.  Peter  Jaurat 
wrote  for  all  those  who  did  not  know  how  to 
write :  he  lent  to  them  his  style  and  his  elo- 
quence, receiving  in  reward  a  few  cents,  in 
short,  Jaurat  lived  upon  the  ignorance  of 
others  ;  and  the  number  of  ignorant  was  not 
small,  among  the  people,  at  that  period.  Thus 
the  shop  of  the  scrivener  was  never  empty. 
It  was  filled  with  laborers  —  poor  fellows  who 
came,  some  to  beg  him  to  write  into  the  prov- 
inces to  their  families,  others  for  a  petition  to 
some  great  lord,  whose  protection  they  were 
soliciting;  one  that  he  would  manufacture  a 
song  for  the  birth-day  of  his  mistress,  another 
wished  a  few  couplets  for  his  approaching 
marriage.  Jaurat  accommodated  them  as  well 
as  he  was  able,  and  all  quitted  him  enchanted 
with  his  talents. 

One  day  a  certain  cook  went  out  of  Jaurat's 
shop,  not  having  found  him  at  that  moment 
withm.  This  cook,  perceiving  Crepo  in  his 
shop,  asked  if  the  scrivener  would  soon  come 
back. 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  59 

"  You  ask  me,  good  cook, 

When  Jaurat,  my  neighbor, 

.    Shall  return  to  his  shop, 

And  renew  his  old  labor  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  cook. 
Crepo  replied, 

"  To  whom  is  this  clear  ? 
But  I  tell  you,  my  dear, 
Neighbor  Peter  will  come, 
When  Peter  Jaurat, 
Returning  from  far, 
In  the  house  of  said  Peter  shall  reach  his  own  home." 

It  was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  the  cook 
had  heard  such  a  language  spoken.  She  re- 
mained mystified  before  Crepo,  who  went  on 
talking  to  her,  without  any  more  hesitation 
than  if  he  had  only  been  saying  good  morning 
and  good  night.  In  her  surprise  she  opened 
such  great  eyes,  and  such  a  great  mouth,  that 
the  pastry-cook,  thinking  she  was  hungry,  said 
to  her, 

"  I  have  tarts  and  sweet  cakes, 

I  have  pies  hot  and  cold  ; 
No  king's  cook  better  makes 

Than  in  my  shop  are  sold. 
For  young  girls  I  have  crisp  cake, 

And  sponge  cake  for  all ; 


60  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

My  sweets  give  no  toothache, 

But  are  fit  for  a  ball. 
Pray  enter  and  eat ;  I  am  Crepo,  your  man, 

And  first  pastry-cook  to  the  king  of  Japan." 

The  king  of  Japan  happened  here  to  rhyme 
with  man;  but  the  cook,  who  knew  neither 
what  a  rhyme  was,  nor  who  the  king  of  Japan 
was,  supposed,  without  scruple,  that  the  pastry- 
cook supplied  some  royal  table ;  and  she  en- 
tered his  shop.  But,  alas !  how  deceitful  were 
the  words  of  Crepo !  The  poor  man,  led  on 
by  his  rhyme,  had  announced  a  hundred  more 
delicacies  than  his  shop  contained  :  in  truth, 
two  or  three  sponge  cakes,  old  and  dry  as 
stones,  lay  scattered  about  on  the  empty  shelves. 
The  cook  thought  that  the  king  of  Japan  must 
have  eaten  up  all  the  last  baking,  for  in  vain 
did  she  cast  her  eyes  every  where,  and  could 
discern  nothing  but  the  above-mentioned 
sponge  cakes.  In  his  strange  manner,  Crepo 
related  to  her  by  what  a  succession  of  mis- 
fortunes he  found  himself  the  possessor  of  the 
establishment  of  a  pastry-cook,  without  any 
pastry. 

Crepo  was  naturally  a  great  bragger ;  and 
verse  rendering  any  recital  very  prolix,  we, 
ourselves,  in  plain  prose,  and  as  briefly  as  pos- 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  61 

sible,  shall  relate  how  the  pastry-cook  Crepo 
came  to  have  no  pastry  in  his  shop. 

This  misfortune  was  caused  by  the  rhyming 
mania  of  the  pastry-cook.  His  servants,  men 
and  women,  had  quitted  him  under  the  pre- 
tence that  he  was  mad  —  that  they  did  not 
understand  his  music.  It  was  thus  that  these 
people  spoke  of  the  rhyming  phrases  of  poor 
Crepo. 

•It  may  also  be  admitted  that  rhyme  often 
drove  him  to  express  his  orders  ill.  Thus,  if  it 
was  necessary  to  heat  the  oven  in  the  night, 
he  would  say, 

"  You  must  heat  the  oven,  I  say, 
When  it  is  no  longer  day." 

But,  when  it  is  no  longer  day,  meant  evening 
rather  than  night.  This  was  not  to  fix  the 
hour.  He  should  have  said,  You  must  heat 
the  oven  at  eight  o'clock,  or  at  ten  o'clock, 
or  at  midnight ;  but, 

"  You  must  heat  the  oven 
At  midnight " 

made  neither  verse  nor  rhyme  ;  and  Crepo  was 
the  humble  servant  of  both.  Thence  came 
orders  badly  followed  —  an  oven  too  hot  or  too 
cold,  pies  which  were  not  baked  enough,  or 
6 


62  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

were  over-baked.  The  customers  of  Crepo 
abandoned  him  by  degrees :  after  the  customers 
went  the   apprentices.     In  short,  Crepo  said, 

"  A  man  will  ne'er  be  wretched  while  he  feels 
How  much  one  noble  verse  all  pies  excels." 

Meantime  the  cook  looked  at  the  rhyming 
pastry-cook  with  such  a  stupid  and  admiring 
air,  that  the  worthy  Crepo  could  not  prevent 
a  feeling  of  pride  at  it ;  after  which  he  asked 
her,  still  in  rhyme,  what  business  she  had  with 
his  neighbor  Peter. 

She  answered  that,  finding  herself  out  of 
a  place  for  the  last  three  days,  she  had  come 
to  request  the  scrivener  Jaurat  to  make  out  a 
list  of  the  gentlefolks  she  had  served,  that 
she  might  offer  it  as  a  recommendation  to  any 
new  lady  to  whom  she  should  present  herself. 

In  a  moment  Crepo  took  a  piece  of  paper, 
on  which  he  wrote,  after  gaining  some  par- 
ticulars from  the  cook, 

"  The  bearer's  name  is  Cathanna ; 
In  the  kitchen  none  outshine  her. 
Clothes  she  bleaches  white  as  snow, 
Quick  can  iron,  neatly  sew; 
Thirteen  weeks  she  served  with  skill 
A  noble  duke  named  Montreville  ; 
Then,  of  Marquises  a  dozen ; 
Next,  an  opera-dancer's  cousin ; 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.         ,       63 

Then,  two  judges  of  the  chamber ; 

Next,  a  learned  doctor  claimed  her ; 

A  bishop,  then  an  admiral ; 

Honorable  people  all. 

These  will  answer,  every  soul, 

She  served  them  well,  upon  the  whole." 

Crepo  did  not  think  it  useful  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  cook  to  certain  inequalities  in 
his  measure.  He  only  told  her  that  the  rhyme 
had  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  place  in 
this  certificate  the  names  of  several  people 
whose  domestic  she  had  never  been,  but  that 
this  sort  of  thing  was  excusable  in  poetry. 
The  cook,  whose  admiration  continued  to  in- 
crease, felt  in  her  pocket  for  something  to  pay 
Crepo  for  his  trouble ;  but  the  honest  pastry- 
cook refused  her  money,  under  the  pretence 
that  he  labored  for  glory,  not  for  fortune. 

The  cook  quitted  him,  penetrated  with  re- 
spect and  gratitude  ;  and  from  this  day,  thanks 
to  the  loquacity  of  Miss  Catharina,  the  customers 
of  Jaurat  came  to  knock  at  the  door  of  Crepo. 
The  fame  of  the  rhyming  pastry-cook  spread 
for  a  league  round.  He  was  employed  to  write 
letters  in  verse,  compliments  in  verse,  and 
petitions  in  verse,  great  and  small.  But  un- 
fortunately, the  more  customers   Crepo  had, 


64  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

the  less  money ;  the  more  he  wrote  rhymes, 
the  less  he  was  able  to  replenish  his  wardrobe. 
His  ragged  clothes  became  too  large  for  him ; 
his  purse  and  his  stomach  were  equally  empty  ; 
and  for  this  reason,  the  cook  had  told  her 
neighbors,  her  friends  and  acquaintances,  of 
her  luck,  and  had  advised  them  to  go  and  get 
Crepo  to  write  their  letters,  for  he  did  not 
want  them  to  pay  him. 

Thus  every  one  hastened  to  Crepo,  who 
fulfilled  gratuitously  the  functions  of  a  pub- 
lic writer  —  those  functions  which  Jaurat, 
on  the  contrary,  exercised  to  his  great  pecu- 
niary advantage.  Often,  poor  Crepo,  pressed 
by  want,  felt  some  desire  to  exact  a  price  for 
his  verses ;  but  he  dared  not  do  so,  and  no  one 
thought  of  offering  him  money  which  he  did 
not  demand ;  for  had  he  not  proudly  told  the 
cook,  he  labored  only  for  glory? 

It  was  not  without  some  displeasure  that 
Jaurat  saw  Crepo  devoting  himself  to  the  trade 
of  a  scrivener.  He  perceived,  however,  that 
the  poor  man  was  falling  more  and  more  into 
misery,  and  that  a  good  number  of  his  old 
customers  were  returning  to  his  shop,  not  al- 
together satisfied  with  Crepo,  who  wrote  verses, 
and  wrote  for  nothing,   to  be  sure,  but  who, 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  65 

notwithstanding  all  that,  wrote  so  badly,  so 
very  badly,  that  people  were  troubled  to  read 
his  works.  Jaurat,  as  we  were  saying,  per- 
ceiving that  Crepo  was  not  making  a  fortune 
by  this  trade.,  and  that  his  own  shop  was  be- 
ginning to  be  well  supplied  with  customers, 
manifested  his  displeasure  only  by  raillery  upon 
Crepo's  old  trade  of  pastry-cook. 

To  all  the  jokes  of  Jaurat,  Crepo  only  op- 
posed scores  of  verses  ;  we  will  not  quote  them, 
they  were  so  wretched.  Honest  Crepo,  who 
was  a  very  bad  poet,  upon  days  when  he  had  a 
little  money  in  his  purse,  was  a  bona  fide  stupid 
rhymer  on  the  days  when  he  had  not  a  cent. 
These  days  were  getting  to  be  more  and  more 
common.  For  food,  poor  Crepo  was  obliged 
to  sell  his  penknife,  and  Jaurat  became  the 
purchaser  at  a  miserable  price.  In  vain  Crepo, 
to  soften  his  fortunate  rival,  lavished  upon  him 
his  most  beautiful  rhymes  and  his  tenderest 
epithets ;  in  vain  did  he  address  Peter  Jaurat 
as  his  dear  Peterkin ;  in  vain,  by  the  aid  of  this 
infantine  and  caressing  termination,  which  he 
added  to  the  baptismal  name  of  the  scrivener, 
did  he  endeavor  to  touch  his  heart  with  regard 
to  the  penknife,  of  which  his  extreme  misery 
had  compelled   him  to  rob  himself;  —  Jaurat 


66  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

remained  insensible ;  or,  rather,  he  laughed 
while  he  was  offering  three  cents  for  poor  Cre- 
po's  penknife.  Finally,  dear  Peterkin  paid 
three  cents  for  his  poet  neighbor's  penknife. 

This  being  done,  Crepo  could  no  longer 
make  his  pens,  and  found  it  impossible  to 
write,  even  badly,  the  few  letters  and  petitions 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  rhyme  gratui- 
tously for  any  poor  fellow  who  came  along  ;  and 
soon  Crepo  the  scrivener  was  abandoned  by 
all,  as  Crepo  the  pastry-cook  had  been  before. 
What  troubled  him  most  in  this  business  was, 
not  so  much  that  he  could  no  longer  write 
verses,  —  for  there  still  remained  to  him  the  re- 
source of  repeating  them,  —  but  that  he  could 
no  longer  render  services  to  those  people  who 
had  so  often  had  recourse  to  his  poetical  tal- 
ents. He  was  a  brave  man,  this  Crepo,  and 
had  a  good  heart.  "And  here  I  am,"  exclaimed 
he,  with  grief,  "  reduced  to  the  state  of  not  be- 
ing able  to  oblige  any  body."  The  excess  of 
his  grief  made  him  forget,  for  this  once,  to 
make  a  rhyme  to  body.  Never  was  a  man 
more  desperate. 

Because  he  could  not  cut  his  quills,  he  sold 
them ;  because  he  could  not  blot  his  paper,  he 
sold  it :  he  kept  only  his  inkstand  ;  and  this 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  67 

because  he  could  not  find  a  purchaser  for  it. 
This  inkstand  was  made  of  horn,  and  was  not 
worth  the  hundredth  part  of  a  cent. 

In  the  depth  of  his  misery,  Crepo  resolved 
to  resume  his  trade  of  pastry-cook%  He  cov- 
ered his  head  with  a  cotton  cap,  which  one  of 
his  neighbors  deigned  to  lend  him  ;  he  tied  be- 
fore him  a  miserable  cloth  apron,  which  he 
picked  up  in  a  corner  ;  he  turned  up  his  sleeves, 
as  he  used  to  do  when  kneading  his  paste ; 
but  he  wanted  flour,  water,  wood,  and  fire  ;  he 
wanted  every  thing :  he  saw  clearly  that,  he 
could  do  nothing  about  making  pastry,  and 
grieved,  empty,  and  famished,  he  went  to  bed 
saying,  — 

"With  that  king  of  Medina,  I  am  fully  content, 
Who,  fasting-,  without  in  his  pocket  one  cent, 
Said,  while  covered  well  in  his  bed  he  reclined, 
?  Go  to  bed  when  you're  hungry ; '  men  sleep  when 
they've  dined." 

Meantime  Crepo,  very  little  refreshed,  slept 
for  an  hour,  when  pains  in  his  stomach  awoke 
him,  and  he  jumped  up.  The  good  man  then 
confessed  that  if  sleeping  be  dining,  it  is  not 
eating  supper  ;  or  if  it  be  supping,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  sup  worse.  The  pains  of  hunger  made 
him  suffer  horribly. 


68 


THE     RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 


It  was  night  —  he  arose,  dressed  himself  in 
his  rags,  and  began  to  reflect.  It  is  not  known 
exactly  how  long  he  remained  plunged  in 
these  reflections ;  but  we  imagine  they  were 
not  of  very  long  duration. 

The  noise  of  a  fiddler  made  him  prick  up 
his  ears  :  he  heard  the  unaccustomed  sound  of 
music :  soon  a  gentle  little  voice  cried  through 
his  key-hole,  "  Mossiou  scrivano  publico,  Mos- 
siou Crepo,  open  your  door."  Crepo  ran  to 
open  it.  In  the  street,  on  the  step  of  his  door, 
was  a  child  of  about  13  or  14  years  old : 
in  his  hand  was  a  violin,  which  he  employed 
himself  in  scraping,  at  the  same  time  making 
singular  contortions,  which  almost  frightened 
Crepo.  Finally,  becoming  restored  to  his  usual 
equanimity,  Crepo  asked  the  young  stranger, 
who  scarcely  discontinued  his  music,  what 
brought  him  there  at  that  hour,  and  what 
service  he  could  render  him. 

The  child,  in  his  foreign  jargon,  half  Italian 
and  half  French,  related  to  the  good  man  that 
he  was  employed  in  the  kitchen  of  Made- 
moiselle Montpensier,  one  of  the  great  ladies  of 
the  court ;  that  he  was  dying  of  ennui ;  that  by 
chance  he  had  found  a  bad  violin  ;  that,  urged 
to  walk  by  the  beautiful  moonlight,  (the  moon 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  69 

this  night  was  magnificent  to  behold,)  he  went 
into  the  street  with  his  lucky  fiddle ;  that, 
passing  through  that  street,  he  had  seen  writ- 
ten on  the  ex-pastry-cook's  door,  Crepo,  public 
writer ;  that  this  had  led  him  to  knock  at  his 
door,  to  desire  Master  Crepo  would  draw  up 
for  him,  immediately,  in  fine  copy-hand,  a 
splendid  petition,  to  present  to  Mademoiselle 
Montpensier.  He  wanted  to  represent  to 
the  lady  that  he  did  not  wish  to  remain  any 
longer  in  her  kitchen;  that  he  felt  himself  to 
be  a  musician.  He  did  not  know  how  to 
write  French,  and  added  that  Crepo  would 
confer  on  him  a  signal  service,  by  drawing  up 
for  him  a  sort  of  petition,  in  which  Mademoi- 
selle Montpensier  should  be  requested,  in  the 
most  humble  manner,  to  make  a  musician  of 
an  unworthy  scullion. 

Crepo,  not  without  some  trouble,  at  last 
comprehended  what  was  the  matter.  "Alas  !  " 
said  he  to  the  child, 

"  Alas  S  I,  little  stranger, 
Have  no  paper  nor  pen, 
Nor  any  thing  else 

To  assist  you ;  but  then 
It  may  be  that  my  friend 
Pen  and  paper  will  lend." 


70  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

With  two  jumps  Crepo  had  crossed  the 
street.  The  child  followed  him,  fiddle  in 
hand.  Crepo  knocked  gently,  saying,  '  Neigh- 
bor Jaurat.' 

The  door  remained  shut. 

Crepo  knocked  louder — "  Neighbor  Peter  !" 

Jaurat  did  not  answer. 

Crepo  knocked  twice  in  succession  —  "  My 
dear  Peterkin  ! " 

He  heard  the  noise  of  a  door  opening. 

"  Dear  Peterkin!  "  said  he  to  himself;  "  this 
little  tender  word  pleases  him ;  he  is  going  to 
unlock  ;  "  —  and,  in  fact,  at  this  moment  Jaurat 
was  turning  his  key.  Crepo  said  to  himself,  "  I 
will  not  ask  him  for  paper,  because  perhaps 
he  will  refuse  it.  Besides,  I  have  at  home 
some  paper  which  is  written  only  on  one  side  ; 
I  will  write  on  the  other.  [  will  not  tell  him 
that  I  have  not  money  enough  to  buy  a  candle  ; 
he  will  see  that  I  am  too  unfortunate.  I  will 
simply  tell  him,  that "  — 

The  lock  turned  ;  the  door  was  opened ; 
but  at  the  sight  of  Crepo,  Jaurat  shut  his  door 
again,  very  quickly,  grumbling  with  vexation. 

The  child  and  the  rhymer  Crepo  looked  at 
each  other  in  distress. 

Crepo  began  again  to  say,  "  Neighbor  Jaurat, 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 


71 


neighbor  Peter,  my  dear  Peterkin  !  "  Aftei 
which,  to  make  a  sort  of  rhyme  to  Peterkin, 
he  added, 

"  O  Peterkin, 
Pray  let  me  in." 

There  was  a  little  window  cut  in  the  wall 
just  over  the  door  of  the  barrack  in  which 
Jaurat  lodged,  and  suddenly  Crepo  saw  a 
head  emerge  from  this  window,  and  heard 
Jaurat's  voice  asking,  "What  do  you  want, 
pastry-cook  ? " 

Crepo  replied, 

"  An  illustrious  epistle 

I  fain  would  indite  ; 
But  the  wind,  with  a  whistle, 

Has  blown  out  my  light ; 
And  throughout  my  whole  house, 

Before  and  behind, 
To  my  sorrow,  no  pen 

And  no  fire  can  I  find." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Jaurat ;  "  let  me  go  to 
sleep,  and  walk  off." 

A  cloud,  which  a  moment  before  had  ob- 
scured the  moon,  ceased  to  cover  her  with  its 
veil,  and  the  queen  of  night  shone  out  with 
dazzling  brilliancy.  One  would  have  said  that 
i  ^w  tyh*  bad  inspired  the  poetical  genius  of 


72  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

Crepo  ;  for  he  placed  himself  like  an  actor,  with 
his  right  hand  raised  toward  heaven,  and  said^ 
with  a  slow  and  sad  voice, 

"  By  the  light  of  the  moon, 

O  Peter,  my  friend, 
One  word,  just  to  write, 

Your  pen,  O  pray,  lend. 
My  candle  is  dead, 

My  fire  is  no  more, 
And  for  goodness'  sake,  neighbor, 

Pray  open  your  door." 

As  he  finished  these  words,  Crepo,  with  his 
left  hand,  raising  the  corner  of  his  cotton 
apron,  put  it  up  to  his  eyes  —  the  good  man 
dried  a  tear  —  he  wept. 

Jaurat,  in  mockery,  answered  him  in 
wretched  verses,  and  bad  rhymes  — 

"  To  no  pastry-cook 
Will  I  open  the  door, 
When  he  ties  on  the  moon 
In  his  apron  before." 

"  What  does  he  mean  ? "  thought  the  affright- 
ed Crepo.  "  I  wear  the  moon  in  my  apron  !  " 
He  did  not  finish ;  for,  indeed,  in  his  apron 
he  saw  an  enormous  moon  —  O  horrible !  — 
that  is,  he  saw  there  a  hole,  round  as  a  cheese, 
a  rent  of  such  magnitude,  that  the  moon,  in 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 


73 


the  height  of  heaven,  did  not  appear  either 
more  round  or  larger. 

Jaurat  laughed  with  all  his  might  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  wicked  joke  that  he  had 
just  made  upon  poor  Crepo,  who  was  disposed 
to  defend  the  honor  of  his  apron,  when  the 
child  seized  the  astonished  rhymer  by  the 
hand,  and  cried  out, 

"  Ricominciate  the  so?ig,Mossiou  "  —  and  the 
child,  raising  himself  on  tiptoe,  placed  the  arirc 
of  Crepo  in  the  perpendicular  position  in 
which  it  was  just  now  —  then  again  he  con- 
jured him  most  earnestly  to  repeat  the  words 
he  had  said.  —  "What  words,  my  friend?" 
asked  Crepo. 

" The  word  De  light  of  de  moon"  answered 
the  young  scullion. 

"By  the  light  of  the  moon — willingly,  if  I 
recollect  it,"  answered  Crepo,  who  could  not 
call  back,  without  some  trouble  to  his  memory, 
the  preceding  strophe,  each  verse  of  which  he 
repeated  slowly  at  the  prayer  of  the  stranger. 

As  Crepo  repeated  a  verse,  the  little  musi- 
cian composed  a  certain  air,  which  he  played 
on  his  violin. 

When  Crepo  had  repeated  all  the  verses, 
even  to  the  last  line,  Pray  open  the  door,  the 
7 


74  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

child  played  alone  upon  his  instrument  the  air 
which  he  had  just  composed. 

This  music  made  such  an  impression  upon 
Crepo,  upon  Jaurat,  and  upon  some  of  the 
neighbors  who  had  been  drawn  to  their  win- 
dows  by  the  novelty  of  the  scene,  that  all,  at 
the  same  moment,  with  one  accord,  began  to 
clap  their  hands  and  to  sing  with  all  their 
might  the  air  and  the  words  which  have  since 
become  so  celebrated. 

"  Au  clair  cle  la  lune,"  &c.  — 
(By  the  light  of  the  moon.) 

The  little  musician  accompanied  them  with 
his  violin.  The  air  and  the  words  being 
finished,  Crepo  kept  on  singing,  and  the 
neighbors,  at  their  windows,  did  not  cease  to 
applaud,  when  the  young  stranger,  shaking 
with  one  hand  his  violin  over  his  head,  in  sign 
of  joy,  slid  into  the  rhyming  cook's  pocket 
some  small  change — "  Addio,  signor"  cried 
he  to  Crepo,  "  addio." 

As  he  made  this  farewell,  the  little  stranger 
ran  away  as  fast  as  he  could. 

The  next  morning,  the  same  child  appeared 
again  at  Crepo's  shop,  and  begged  him  to  give 
him  in  writing  the  words  of  the  past  night  — 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  75 

By  the  light  of  the  moon.  Crepo,  without 
either  paper  or  pen,  could  not  satisfy  the 
young  musician ;  but  the  latter,  divining  the 
cause  of  his  embarrassment,  gave  him  a  purse 
containing  some  pieces  of  silver.  Crepo,  happy 
with  this  treasure,  ran  quickly  to  buy  paper, 
pen,  ink,  and  even  a  penknife.  A  few  mo- 
ments after,  he  returned,  and  leaning  on  his 
window-frame,  for  want  of  a  writing-table,  he 
transcribed  the  verses,  repeating  each  in  a  loud 
tone. 

As  he  repeated  them,  he  could  not  help 
singing  the  air  which  the  young  musician  had 
composed  to  his  rhymes  the  night  before. 
Jaurat,  hearing  what  was  going  on,  went  out 
of  his  shop,  and  entering  Crepo's  shop,  said  to 
the  stranger,  "Sir,  should  you  like  also  the 
couplet  that  I  made  in  answer  to  my  friend  — 

'  To  no  pastry-cook 

Shall  I  open  my  door,'  &c.  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  Italian,  with  a  little  ges- 
ture of  displeasure,  "no,  no,  I  do  not  ivant  the 
riposta." 

Crepo  was  triumphant.  "Brave  little  fel- 
low," said  he,  "  he  does  not  want  the  riposta." 

Crepo  gave  therefore  to  the  musician  only 


76  THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK. 

his  own  rhymes.     For  this  reason  this  brutal 
answer  of  Jaurat, 

"  To  no  pastry-cook 

Will  I  open  the  door,"  &c. 

is  known  to  very  few  people.  They  would 
have  perhaps  remained  in  the  most  profound 
forgetfulness,  if  some  of  the  neighbors,  who  had 
heard  them,  had  not  taken  care  to  repeat  them 
the  next  day  to  their  friends,  who  repeated  them 
to  their  friends  in  town,  who,  having  become 
our  grandfathers,  told  it  to  ourselves  in  infancy. 
A  month  had  not  elapsed  after  this  adven- 
ture, when  a  young  court  page  entered  Crepo's 
shop,  humming, 

"  By  the  light  of  the  moon,"  &c. 

This  young  page  was  no  other  than  the 
scullion  musician ;  his  clothes  were  all  trimmed 
up  with  gold.  Crepo  knew  him  immediately, 
and  asked  him  with  great  interest  the  cause 
of  his  change  of  fortune.  The  young  page 
jumped  into  his  arms,  and  embraced  him, 
the  astonished  Crepo,  that  excellent  man, 
who  wept  with  joy  in  listening,  while  the  page 
related  how  every  day  he  played,  in  the  kitch- 
en, the  air  which  he  made  to  the  old  rhymer's 
verses ;  that  this   air   and   these  words  were 


THE    RHYMING    PASTRY-COOK.  77 

repeated  in  chorus  by  all  the  cooks  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest ;  that  the  ears  of  Made- 
moiselle Montpensier  had  been  agreeably 
tickled  by  this  music  ;  and  that,  finally,  the 
great  lady,  having  paid  attention  to  the  scullion 
musician,  he  had  been  made  a  page ;  and  this 
page  had  come  to  thank  the  scrivener,  pastry- 
cook, Crepo,  the  first  source  of  his  fortune. 

From  this  day  the  page  and  the  pastry-cook 
continued  to  see  each  other,  like  two  friends. 
Afterwards,  Crepo,  enriched  by  the  gratitude 
of  the  little  musician,  quitted  his  shop  ;  but 
they  say  he  never  left  off  rhyming ;  and  we 
are  assured  that  the  little  musician  became  a 
great  man ;  that  the  little  scullion  was  the 
celebrated  Lulli,  whose  magnificent  operas 
are  still  sometimes  played,  though  by  far  too 
seldom. 


7* 


78 


RUSSIAN   NAMES. 


Bonaparte  he  would  set  out 

For  a  summer  excursion  to  Moscow  ; 

The  fields  were  green,  and  the  sky  was  blue 

Morbleu,  Parbleu  ! 

What  a  pleasant  excursion  to  Moscow  ! 

Four  hundred  thousand  men  and  more  ; 

Heigh-ho  for  Moscow  ! 

There  were  marshals  a  dozen,  and  dukes  a 

score. 
Morbleu,  Parbleu ! 
What  a  pleasant  excursion  to  Moscow  I 

There  was  Junot,  and  Augereau  ; 

Heigh-ho  for  Moscow ! 

Dombrowsky,  and  Poniatowsky, 

General  Rapp,  and  Emperor  Nap : 

Nothing  would  do, 

While  the  fields  were  so  green,  and  sky  so  blue, 

Morbleu,  Parbleu  ! 

But  they  must  be  marching  to  Moscow. 


RUSSIAN    NAMES.  79 

But  then  the  Russians  they  turned  to, 

All  on  the  road  to  Moscow ; 

Nap  had  to  fight  his  way  all  through  : 

They  could  fight,  but  they  could  not  parlez- 

vous  : 
But  the  fields  were  green,  and  the  sky  was  blue ; 
Morbleu,  Parbleu ! 
And  so  he  got  to  Moscow. 

They  made  the  place  too  hot  for  him ; 

For  they  set  fire  to  Moscow. 

To  get  there  had  cost  him  much  ado, 

And  then  no  better  course  he  knew, 

While  the  fields  were  green,  and  the  skies  were 

blue, 
Morbleu,  Parbleu ! 
Than  to  march  back  again  from  Moscow. 

The  Russians  they  stuck  close  to  him, 
All  on  the  road  from  Moscow. 
There  was  Tormazow,  and  Jermalow, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  ow ; 
Rajesky,  and  Noveresky, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  esky ; 
SchamscefF,  Souchaneff,  and  Schepeleff, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  eff; 


80  RUSSIAN    NAMES. 

Wasitschikoff,  Kostomaroff,  and  Tchoglokoff, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  off; 
Milaradovitch,  and  Jaladovitch,  and  Karatcho- 

witch, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  itch ; 
Oscharoffsky,  Kostoffsky,  and  Kazatichoffsky, 
And  all  the  others  that  end  in  offsky. 

And  last  of  all  an  admiral  came,* 

A  terrible  man,  with  a  terrible  name  — 

A  name  which,  you  all  must  know  very  well, 

Nobody  can  speak,  and  nobody  can  spell ; 

And  Platoff,  he  played  them  off ; 

And  Markoff,  he  marked  them  off; 

And  Touchoff,  he  touched  them  off; 

And  Kutusoff,  he  cut  them  off; 

And  Woronzoff,  he  worried  them  off; 

And  Dochtoroff,  he  doctored  them  off; 

And  Rodinoff,  he  flogged  them  off. 

They  stuck  close  to  him  with  all  their  might ; 

They  were  on  the  left,  and  on  the  right. 

Nap  would  rather  parlez-vous  than  fight ; 

But  parlez-vous  no  more  would  do, 

Morbleu,  Parbleu  ! 

For  they  remembered  Moscow. 

*  Tschigoff. 


RUSSIAN    NAMES. 


81 


And  then  came  on  the  frost  and  snow, 

All  on  the  road  to  Moscow. 

The  Emperor  Nap  found,  as  he  went, 

He  was  not  quite  omnipotent. 

And  worse  and  worse  the  weather  grew  ; 

The  fields  were  so  white,  and  the  sky  so  blue 

What  a  terrible  journey  from  Moscow ! 

Southey 


82 


THE    BOY    AND    THE    EAGLE, 


Boy. 
Eagle,  eagle,  who  soarest  high, 
With    broad-spread  wing,  and    sharp,    bright 

eye,— 
Eagle,  eagle,  I  pray  you  tell, 
Where  is  the  nest,  where  your  young   ones 

dwell 

Eagle. 

High  on  a  cliff,  advanced  and  bold, 
Exposed  to  the  north  wind,  strong  and  cold, 
With  labor  and  care  my  nest  I  build, 
And  guard  it  when  with  my  young  'tis  filled 

Boy. 

In  your  far-off  nest,  the  wild  cliffs  among, 
Where  find  you  food  to  nourish  your  young  ? 
The  cliff  is  so  high,  and  the  rock  is  so  bare, 
No  bird  nor  beast  would  venture  there. 


the  boy  and  the  eagle.  83 

Eagle. 
My  eye  is  keen,  and  my  scent  is  strong, 
And  my  prey  I  spy,  as  I  float  along 
On  my  broad-spread  wing,  through  the  clear 

blue  air ;  • 

And    I    seize    the  young  lamb,   or  the  timid 

hare, 
And  away  to  my  nest  my  prey  I  bear  ; 
And  a  store  I  keep  for  my  young  ones  there 
I  must  own  my  big  nest  is  not  very  clean ; 
But  with  rubbish  and  bones  all  full  it  is  seen. 

Boy. 

O  mighty  eagle,  with  bright,  bright  eye, 
Who  canst  see  so  far  and  soar  so  high, 
Year  after  year  dost  thou. still  live  on, 
Or  closes  thy  life  when  the  season  is  done  ? 

Eagle. 
O  boy,  scarce  ten  years  have  passed  away 
Since  thy  eyes  were  opened  to  see  the  day  ; 
But  seven  times  ten  years  may  come  and  be 

told, 
And  the  stout,  strong  eagle  will  not  grow  old 


84 


THE    BOY    AND    THE    EAGLE 


Boy. 
Well,  old  brown  eagle,  I  bid  you  good  by ; 
Fly  off  to  your  nest  so  lonely  and  high  ; 
Though  near  its  lone  circle  I  care  not  to  come, 
Yet   there  are  your  young  ones,  and  dear  is 
your  home. 


86 


EMMA. 

[A  STORY  FROM  THE  FRENCH.] 


Emma  had  always  been  a  very  happy  little 
girl.  She  was  very  much  beloved,  not  only 
by  her  parents,  but  all  the  rest  of  the  family ; 
and  even  strangers,  who  came  to  visit  her 
father  and  mother,  were  pleased  with  her  sweet 
temper  and  obliging  manners.  No  one  spoke 
of  her  but  to  praise  her,  and  there  never  was 
a  word  said  about  her  which  could  have  given 
her  pain. 

Emma  was  enjoying  all  the  happiness  which 
might  be  expected  from  such  a  sweet  temper, 
when  a  great  misfortune  happened  to  her. 
Her  father  and  mother  were  taken  very  sick. 
Their  beds  were  both  placed  in  one  room,  and 
were  only  separated  by  the  chair  of  Emma, 
who  passed  the  whole  day  in  attendance  upon 
them.  It  was  surprising  how  much  she,  al- 
though quite   young,  was  able   to  assist   the 


EMMA.  87 

nurse  who  had  the  care  of  them.  These  atten 
tions  from  their  little  daughter  did  a  great  deal 
to  enable  them  to  bear  their  sickness,  and 
made  it  seem  much  less  tedious  to  them.  At 
last  they  recovered ;  but  her  father  still  re- 
mained somewhat  lame,  and  her  mother's  eyes 
had  become  so  much  weakened  by  her  long 
sickness,  that  though  she  was  not  quite  blind, 
she  could  hardly  distinguish  objects.  Emma 
was  sadly  grieved  to  see  her  father  and  mother 
suffer  so  much  ;  but  she  did  all  she  could  to 
appear  calm  in  their  presence,  that  she  might 
not  make  them  feel  sad.  She  never  was  tired 
when  she  could  render  them  any  little  service. 
"  Come,  papa,"  she  would  say,  "  a  little  turn 
about  the  chamber  will  do  you  good.  Lean 
upon  my  shoulder,  and  do  not  be  afraid  of 
hurting  me.  When  I  was  very  little,  and  could 
not  walk  alone,  you  were  so  good  as  to  carry 
me  :  it  is  now  my  turn  to  support  you."  She 
would  say  to  her  mother,  "  Let  me  wait  upon 
you,  mamma,  and  hand  you  every  thing  you 
want.  When  I  could  not  do  any  thing  for  my- 
self, you  used  to  feed  me  with  your  own  hand. 
Now  there  is  nothing  I  love  so  well,  as  to  run 
of  errands  for  you,  to  read  amusing  books  to 
you,  to  sew  for  vou ;  and  I  hope  soon  to  be 


88 


EMMA. 


able  to  make  all  your  dresses  for  you :  you 
shall  wear  nothing  but  of  my  making." 

How  different  was  this  from  the  habit 
I  have  seen  some  children  indulge,  of  being 
out  of  humor  if  they  are  asked  to  do  any  little 
errand  for  their  father  or  mother  !  They  can- 
not think,  as  Emma  did,  of  how  much  their 
parents  had  done  for  them,  before  they  were 
able  to  do  any  thing  for  themselves. 

When  Emma  grew  up  to  be  old  enough,  she 
was  married  to  a  very  good  man,  who  loved  her 
parents  tenderly,  and  did  all  he  could  to  assist 
her  in  comforting  and  amusing  them. 

When  she  had  children  of  her  own,  she 
brought  them  to  see  her  father  and  mother 
very  often,  and  their  prattling  and  sports  were 
a  great  pleasure  to  their  grandparents.  These 
children  grew  up  to  be  as  good  as  their  mother, 
by  receiving  her  lessons,  and  profiting  by  her 
example ;  so  that,  when  she  became  old,  and 
unable  to  move  about  quickly,  or  see  clearly, 
they  took  great  pains  to  do  every  thing  to 
make  her  age  pass  happily,  as  she  had  don© 
for  her  parents. 


BOYS  AND  KITE. 


90 


THE    KITE. 


James  and  William  went  to  take  a  walk. 
They  had  made  themselves  a  noble  kite. 
They  had  a  grand  large  ball  of  twine ;  and 
when  they  reached  a  good  place,  they  made 
all  their  preparations  to  fly  it.  James  mount- 
ed a  little  mound,  and  William  waited  until 
there  came  a  good  breeze,  when  he  ran  for- 
ward, returned,  stopped,  pulled  the  twine  ;  and 
at  last  up  it  went  to  a  very  great  height. 
Then  they  sent  up  a  messenger,  a  little  round 
card  slipped  on  the  twine,  which  ran  up  the 
string  till  it  reached  the  kite.  At  last  it  was 
lost  in  the  air.  Suddenly  a  current  of  wind 
seized  it ;  it  whirled  about ;  a  light  rain  had 
wet  it ;  it  fell  at  their  feet  all  in  pieces.  "  I 
bet,"  said  James,  "  that  it  has  cracked  open 
a  cloud."  "  No,"  said  his  father  ;  "  it  has 
mounted  too  high,  and  has  ruined  itself.  So 
take  care,  boys :  wherever  chance  or  your  own 
wits  place  you,  keep,  if  you  can,  in  the  mid- 
dle, between  too  high  and  too  low." 


91 


THE  STAR   OF    BETHLEHEM 


Brighter  than  the  rising  day, 

When  the  sun  of  glory  shines ; 
Brighter  than  the  diamond's  ray, 

Sparkling  in  Golconda's  mines ; 
Beaming  through  the  clouds  of  woe, 

Smiles  in  Mercy's  diadem 
On  the  guilty  world  below, 

The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

When  our  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears, 

This  can  light  them  up  again, 
Sweet  as  music  to  our  ears, 

Faintly  warbling  o'er  the  plain. 
Never  shines  a  ray  so  bright 

From  the  purest  earthly  gem ; 
O  !  there  is  no  soothing  light 

Like  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Grief's  dark  clouds  may  o'er  us  roll, 
Every  heart  may  sink  in  woe, 


92  THE    STAR    OF    BETHLEHEM. 

Gloomy  conscience  rack  the  soul, 
And  sorrow's  tears  in  torrents  flow  ; 

Still,  through  all  these  clouds  and  storms, 
Shines  this  pure,  this  heavenly  gem, 

With  a  ray  that  kindly  warms  — 
The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

When  we  cross  the  roaring  wave 

That  rolls  on  life's  remotest  shore  , 
When  we  look  into  the  grave, 

And  wander  through  this  world  no  more  ; 
This,  the  lamp  whose  genial  ray, 

Like  some  brightly-glowing  gem, 
Points  to  man  his  darkling  way  — 

The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

Let  tne  world  be  sunk  in  sorrow, 

Not  an  eye  be  charmed  or  blessed ; 
We  can  see  a  fair  to-morrow 

Smiling  in  the  rosy  west ; 
This,  her  beacon,  Hope  displays ; 

For  in  Mercy's  diadem 
Shines,  with  Faith's  serenest  rays, 

The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

When  this  gloomy  life  is  o'er, 
When  we  smile  in  bliss  above, 


THE     STAR     OF     BETHLEHEM. 


93 


When,  on  that  delightful  shore, 
We  enjoy  the  heaven  of  love, — 

O  !  what  dazzling  light  shall  shine 
Round  salvation's  purest  gem ! 

O,  what  rays  of  love  divine 
Gild  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ! 


94 


THE  PARTS   OF   SPEECH. 


Interjection. 
The  sounds  which  little  children  make, 
When  first  they  find  themselves  awake 

Are  always  interjections ; 
Oh  !  Ah !  or  Ma !  is  all  they  say  ; 
But  these,  when  they  begin  to  play, 

Oft  meet  with  some  rejections. 

Noun. 
They  next  begin  to  name  their  friend, 
And  things  and  places ;  all  which  tend 

To  tell  of  mighty  noun. 
Great  stores  of  fancies  it  may  bring  ; 
A  noun  —  it  may  be  any  thing, 

A  person  or  a  town. 

Adjective. 
To  adjectives  great  thanks  we  owe ; 
The  qualities  of  nouns  they  show, 
And  their  degrees  compare  ; 


THE    PARTS    OF    SPEECH.  95 

By  them  you  may  express  your  mind, 
Say  good  or  bad,  as  you're  inclined ; 
Or  witty 9  wise,  ox  fair. 

Verb. 
And  now,  we  see,  they  soon  discern 
The  different  kinds  of  verbs  to  learn  — 

The  active,  passive,  neuter. 
To  speak,  to  think,  to  love,  to  run, 
Are  verbs,  as  well  as  what  is  done 

At  present  and  in  future. 

Pronoun. 
And  when  they  speak  of  Frank  and  Tom, 
And  wish,  though  these  are  names  not  long 

To  avoid  a  repetition, 
The  pronoun  he  will  do  instead  ; 
Or,  if  it  is  a  thing  they  need, 

It  stands  in  requisition. 

Conjunction. 
Conjunction  is  a  kind  of  thing, 
Which,  like  a  piece  of  silk  or  string, 

Ties  sentences  together ; 
Thus,  James  and  John  are  very  good, 
And  they  shall  go  to  Primrose  Wood, 

If  it  be  pleasant  weather. 


96  the  parts  of  speech. 

Preposition. 
A  preposition  serves  to  show 
Relation  between  things,  you  know. 

If  in,  or  by,  or  near, 
You  before  noun  or  pronoun  place, 
Its  meaning  you  distinctly  trace, 

And  make  the  sentence  clear 

Adverb. 
Some  words  are  of  another  kind, 
To  help  you  to  express  your  mind, 

And  often  end  in  ly. 
To  adjectives  they  lend  their  aid  — 
Adverb's  the  name  —  don't  be  afraid  ; 

You'll  learn  it  if  you  try. 

Article. 
Last  come  the  little  particles 
Grammarians  call  the  articles ; 

They're  only  the  and  a. 
Now,  Frank,  if  you  will  learn  this  rhyme, 
I  shall  not  have  misspent  my  time  ; 

Then  you  may  go  and  play. 


97 


98 


THE   SKY-LARK 


Two  little  birds,  before  they  were  strong 
enough  to  fly,  one  day  climbed  up  the  side  of 
the  nest,  and  were  playing  there  together,  when 
they  jostled  against  each  other,  and  both  fell 
over  on  the  grass.  The  nest  was  built  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  ground,  but  they  were 
little  weak  creatures,  and  did  not  know  what 
to  do  to  get  themselves  back  into  their  nest 
again.  The  father  and  mother  of  the  little 
birds  had  gone  away  to  get  food  for  them,  and 
there  was  no  one  near  to  help  them  home. 
They  scrambled  about,  as  well  as  they  could, 
but  only  got  farther  and  farther  from  the  place 
in  which  they  wished  to  be. 

While  they  were  in  this  trouble,  a  little  boy 
came  along  with  his  mother  :  he  saw  the  little 
birds,  and  said,  "  O,  mamma,  I  want  these  little* 
birds  very  much ;  may  I  pick  them  up  ? "  "  Yes, 
my  dear  Charles,"  said  she  ;  "  though  I  think 
it  is  very  cruel  to  take  little  birds  out  of  their 


THE    SKY-LARK.  99 

nests,  and  carry  them  away  from  their  mother, 
yet,  as  I  do  not  see  the  nest  where  these  poor 
little  creatures  belong,  and  as  they  are  in  danger 
of  being  trodden  upon  if  they  remain  on  the 
ground  here,  I  am  willing  that  you  should  take 
them  and  carry  them  home,  if  you  will  prom- 
ise me  to  take  good  care  of  them."  Charles 
promised  to  take  all  the  care  he  could  of  them. 
He  kept  his  word  ;  he  ran  towards  the  little 
birds,  picked  them  up  very  carefully,  that  he 
might  not  hurt  them,  and  walked  gayly  home 
with  his  little  family. 

When  he  reached  his  room,  he  put  his  two 
birds  into  a  cage,  made  them  a  little  nest  in 
one  corner  as  well  as  he  could,  and  offered 
them,  on  the  end  of  a  tooth-pick,  crumbs  of 
bread  soaked  very  soft,  and  pounded  seeds. 
The  little  birds  liked  this  treatment  very  well. 
Charles  was  much  pleased  with  feeding  them ; 
and  one  of  the  birds,  having  no  one  to  tell 
him  when  he  had  eaten  enough,  kept  eating 
and  eating,  until,  either  from  the  great  quan- 
tity he  swallowed,  or  the  injury  he  received  in 
tumbling  out  of  the  nest,  he  died. 

Charles  was  very  sorry  to  lose  his  little  play- 
thing ;  but  he  was  very  careful  not  to  feed  the 
other  bird  too  much,  and  he  had  soon  the  pleas- 


100 


THE    SKY-LARK. 


ure  to  see  the  little  fellow  grow  finely,  beeoine 
covered  with  feathers,  and  able  to  feed  himself. 

You  wish  to  know,  I  dare  say,  what  sort  of 
bird  this  was.  I  do  not  mean  to  keep  it  a 
secret,  as  you  may  judge  if  you  look  back  to 
the  picture  at  the  beginning  of  the  story.  It 
was  a  sky-lark,  and  I  do  not  believe  you  ever 
saw  a  more  amiable  little  fellow  of  his  kind. 
He  seemed  fond  of  little  Charles,  would  come 
near  the  side  of  the  cage  when  he  was  looking 
at  it ;  and  if  Charles  opened  the  door  of  the 
cage,  he  would  hop  on  his  hand  or  his  shoulder, 
and  show  him  that  he  loved  and  trusted  him ; 
in  fact,  he  did  every  thing  to  please  his  friend 
which  a  little  bird  could  do,  except  one ;  — 
he  did  not  sing  well ;  the  sad  noise  he  made 
was  not  at  all  pleasing. 

Charles  said  one  day  to  his  mother,  "  Mamma, 
what  do  you  think  is  the  reason  my  little  bird 
will  not  sing  any  better  ?  I  thought  larks  were 
the  finest  singers  in  the  world.  Do  you  think 
it  is  because  he  has  not  had  any  one  to  give 
him  his  music  lessons,  since  he  was  forced, 
poor  fellow,  to  leave  his  mother  so  early  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  so,  my  dear ;  but  I  do  not  know 
much  about  this  kind  of  bird.  What  if  you 
should  run  into  the  library,  and  bring  me  the 


THE    SKY-LARK.  101 

volume  of  Buffon  which  tells  about  birds  ?  Per- 
haps he  will  give  us  some  information  about  it." 

Charles  went  and  brought  the  book,  as  his 
mother  desired  him.  She  looked  for  the  ac- 
count of  the  lark,  and  read  to  him  this 
sentence :  — 

"  Their  music  in  confinement  is  much  infe- 
rior to  what  it  is  when  they  are  at  liberty. 
The  music,  indeed,  of  any  bird  in  captivity, 
creates  no  pleasing  sensations ;  it  is  but  the 
mirth  of  a  little  animal  insensible  of  its  un- 
fortunate situation  ;  it  is  the  landscape,  the 
grove,  the  golden  break  of  day,  the  contest 
on  the  hawthorn,  the  fluttering  from  branch  to 
branch,  the  soaring  in  the  air,  and  the  answering 
of  its  young,  that  gives  the  bird's  song  its  true 
relish." 

Charles  looked  at  his  mother,  without  speak- 
ing, for  a  moment  after  she  had  done  reading. 
He  then  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said,  "  I  do 
not  understand,  exactly,  all  the  words  in  the 
sentence  you  have  just  read  to  me,  but  I  think 
I  know  what  Mr.  Buffon  means.  I  believe  he 
means  that  my  bird  does  not  love  to  be  shut 
up  in  the  cage,  and  that  he  cannot  sing  there. 
So,  if  you  think  I  am  right,  I  will  take  the 
little  fellow  out  to-morrow  morning  as  soon  as 


102  THE    SKY-LARK. 

I  am  up,  which  will  be  soon  after  the  sun  is, 
and  then  I  will  stand  upon  the  old  stump  in 
the  meadow,  and  let  my  hand  remain  open, 
and  see  what  he  will  do." 

His  mother  told  him  he  was  a  good  little  boy, 
to  give  up  so  willingly  the  pleasure  he  had  in 
watching  the  little  bird,  when  he  found  that 
the  little  bird  was  not  so  happy  as  he  would 
be  in  the  open  air. 

The  next  morning  Charles  did  as  he  had 
promised  his  mother.  The  bird  fluttered  for  a 
few  moments  on  his  hand,  as  if  to  try  the 
strength  of  his  wings,  and  then  soared  up  to 
a  very  great  height  in  the  clear  blue  sky,  and, 
as  he  went,  poured  forth  such  a  song  of  glad- 
ness and  melody,  that  the  little  boy  felt  that 
his  little  friend  needed  no  music-teacher  but  the 
fresh  morning  air,  and  the  feeling  of  freedom. 

When  he  returned  home,  and  met  his 
mother  at  breakfast,  he  told  her  what  he  had 
done,  and  said,  "  I  believe  my  little  lark  felt 
as  happy  as  I  do,  when  I  have  done  my  lesson, 
and  you  say  to  me,  {  Now  take  a  good  run, 
Charles  '  " 


104 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CONCORD 


On  the  18th  of  April,  1775,  General  Gage, 
the  commanaer  of  the  British  troops,  despatch- 
ed a  body  of  eight  or  nine  hundred  soldiers 
to  destroy  the  military  stores  which  had  been 
collected  at  Concord,  a  town  about  eighteen 
miles  from  Boston.  Having  reached  Lexing- 
ton, six  miles  distant  from  Concord,  they  were 
met  by  a  company  of  militia,  who  had  hastily 
assembled  from  the  different  villages  on  the 
first  alarm.  It  was  about  sunrise.  The  Brit- 
ish advanced  at  quick  march  to  within  a  few 
rods,  when  Major  Pitcairn  called  out  in  a  loud 
voice,  "  Disperse,  you  rebels  ;  throw  down  your 
arms,  and  disperse." 

Their  number  was  too  small  to  risk  a  battle. 
While  they  were  dispersing,  the  British  shouted, 
and,  by  a  discharge  from  their  ranks,  killed 
and  wounded  several  men.  They  then  re- 
newed their  march  to  Concord,  where  they  de- 
stroyed a  few  articles  of  military  stores,  and 


THE    BATTLE    OF    CONCORD.  105 

sixty  barrels  of  flour.  The  militia-men  had 
now  collected  in  considerable  numbers.  Being 
enraged  at  the  loss  of  their  companions,  they 
made  a  bold  and  furious  attack  on  the  enemy, 
and  drove  them  back  to  Lexington.  Hearing 
of  the  situation  of  his  troops,  General  Gage 
sent  a  large  number  of  men,  with  two  field- 
pieces,  to  their  assistance.  The  united  forces 
amounted  to  about  eighteen  hundred  men. 

In  their  retreat,  the  regular  troops  were 
pursued  with  the  utmost  activity.  From  the 
cover  of  trees  and  stone  walls,  the  farmers 
were  able  to  kill  many  of  the  king's  troops. 
Their  situation  through  the  day  was  very 
hazardous,  and  it  is  wonderful  that  so  many 
escaped.  They  reached  Charlestown  about 
seven  in  the  evening,  much  fatigued,  with  the 
loss  of  two  hundred  and  seventy-three  killed, 
wounded,  and  taken  prisoners.  The  next  day 
they  entered  Boston. 


107 

CHURCH    OF    THE    HOLY 
SEPULCHRE. 


After  our  Savior  was  crucified,  a  good  man, 
named  Joseph,  sent  to  Pilate,  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor, and  begged  the  body  of  Jesus,  that  he 
might  lay  it  in  his  own  new  tomb.  It  was  in  a 
garden.  The  tomb  had  been  hewn  out  of  the 
rock,  and  no  man  had  ever  been  lain  in  it.  A 
stone  was  rolled  to  close  the  mouth  of  the  sepul 
chre.  A  guard  was  placed  by  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor, to  see  that  his  disciples  did  not  come 
by  night  and  steal  him  away ;  and  Mary,  his 
mother,  sat  over  the  sepulchre  watching  it. 

On  the  third  day  after  his  burial,  the  stone 
was  rolled  away  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre ; 
he  came  forth  alive,  and  appeared  to  Mary  and 
to  his  disciples.  He  talked  with  them,  and  ate 
with  them,  and  showed  them  that  it  was  neces- 
sary that  Christ  should  suffer,  and  after  that 
he  should  rise  from  the  dead.  After  many  days, 
he  ascended  to  heaven,  to  his  Father  and  our 
Father,  to  his  God  and  our  God. 


108     CHURCH    OF    THE    HOLTt     SEPULCHRE. 

This  was  to  teach  us  that,  when  we  die,  if 
we  believe  in  Jesus  and  do  as  he  taught  us, 
we  shall  not  remain  in  the  grave,  but  be  raised 
up,  even  as  he  was  raised  up.  And  when  our 
friends  die,  and  we  lay  their  bodies  in  the 
grave,  we  can  feel  that  their  spirits  have  gone 
with  Jesus  to  the  presence  of  their  Father  in 
heaven,  where  we  may  hope  to  meet  them. 

For  some  time  after  the  ascension  of  Jesus, 
the  number  of  those  who  believed  in  him,  and 
who  probably  loved  to  go  and  visit  the  place 
where  he  was  laid,  was  small ;  but  in  process 
of  time,  the  word  of  God  grew  and  prevailed, 
and  spread  over  a  considerable  part  of  the 
world.  Then  people  used  to  go  from  different 
countries  to  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay  ; 
and  at  last  a  church  was  built  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  the  place  where  he  was  buried,  called 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

The  original  church  was  said  to  have  been 
built  by  the  Empress  Helena,  a  Christian  prin- 
cess ;  but  this  was  destroyed  by  fire.  It  was 
rebuilt  partly  by  members  of  the  Roman,  and 
partly  by  those  of  the  Greek  church.  This 
church  is  now  standing,  and  the  picture  op- 
posite represents  the  inside  of  it,  as  it  is  de- 
scribed by  modern  travellers. 


4     • 


